Abott'i 

N*K ¥  YOM 


:^%a^^'  -.:^ 


!c''!j,.  ■  :,  ■ViTiSeilWl.^ii^v '-.-/.. ' 


i£x  ICtfartfl 


SEYMOUR   DURST 


"t '  'Fort  niewv    i^mAtrdatn^  oj^  <^<?  Manhatans 


FORT    NEW    AM.STERDAAV 


(KE"W   YORK  )  ,      J651, 


"When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  book 

Because  it  has  been  said 
"Sver'thing  comes  t'  him  who  waits 

Except  a  loaned  book." 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


Ol 


# 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/aboutnewyorkaccoOOwall 


ABOUT  NEW  YORK: 


^n  |lct0unt 


OF 


WHAT  A  BOY  SAW  IN  HIS  VISIT  TO  THE  CITY. 


BY 


PHILIP  WALLYS. 


PROFUSELY   ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK: 
DIX,    EDWARDS    &    CO.,    321    BROADWAY. 

1857. 


JAY  IRVING   COLLECTIO^f 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 

DIX,  EDWARDS   &   CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Soutlicrn 

District  of  New  York. 


JAY   IRVING    COLLECTION 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


When  I  was  a  boy,  long,  long  ago,  one  of  my  uncles 
used  to  come  to  May  ford,  where  I  lived  (and  a  very 
nice  old  town  it  was  and  is),  and  he  had  on  his 
Sunday  clothes,  and  he  rode  in  a  chaise  with  a 
smartish  kind  of  horse,  not  at  all  like  our  coun- 
try horses,  and  the  chaise  was  clean  and  shining, 
unlike  our  wagons ;  he  wore  a  watch  by  a  chain 
around  his  neck,  and  I  remember  very  well  that 
before  I  went  to  bed  he  told  me  what  time  it 
was  by  pressing  a  spring,  when  a  very  small  bell 
in  it  struck  eight,  and  then  again  one,  which  meant  a 
quarter-past  eight  o'clock. 

''Time  for  little  boys  to  be  abed,''  as  my  mother 
said,  and  very  truly,  though  then  I  did  not  think  so  ; 


Z  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

he  talked  in  a  brisk  way,  and  was  wide  awake, 
and  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  if  he  laughed  out 
loud,  and  even  joked  with  the  minister  ;  he  walked 
right  up  to  anybody,  and  was  not  the  least  afraid,  and 

said — 

'A 

''How  are  you — how  are  you?"  in  a  way  that  was 
quite  captivating  to  me.  It  was  a  satisfaction  to  my 
sister  and  to  me  that  when  our  feet  were  clean  he  let 
us  play  in  the  gig,  and  it  was  so  nice  ;  although,  as  I 
now  remember,  when  the  shafts  rested  on  the  ground, 
both  the  cushions  and  we  slid  off  the  seats,  in  spite  of 
all  we  could  do  ;  yet  that  was  nothing  to  the  drive  he 
took  us  down  to  the  shore,  where  he  and  I  went  in  to 
swim,  I  in  a  small  way  inshore,  while  he  struck  out 
and  swashed  the  water  as  though  it  was  his.  Twice  a 
year  he  used  to  come,  and  those  were  great  times  for 
us  ;  and,  for  a  little  while,  he,  too,  seemed  to  enjoy 
them.  But  be  generally  complained  that  we  were 
slow  and  dull,  and  yet  I  showed  him  where  we  had 
dug  out  a  wood  chuck,  and  took  him  to  a  place  where 
we   believed   there   was   a  nest    of    snakes,    though 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  3 

we  had  never  seen  any ;  and  I  showed  him  the 
house  I  had  built  for  myself  for  rainy  days,  and 
offered  him  half  of  a  splendid  piece  of  hickory 
for  bows,  yet  none  of  these  seemed  exactly  to  satisfy 
him,  and  so,  after  two  days,  he  would  drive  away. 

But  he  always  gave  us  sixpence  a-piece,  which  was 
a  great  consolation  if  he  must  go  ;  and  I  thought  how 
rich  he  must  be  to  give  away  silver  money  so.  I  had 
once  found  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  and  these  six- 
pences and  some  money  I  earned  working  out  the 
weeds,  got  me  a  fund,  and  what  do  you  think  I  did 
with  it? 

I  bought  a  Robinson  Crusoe — with  pictures  in  it, 
and  I  wish  I  had  it  now. 

*'  But  what  has  all  this  to  do,  Mr.  Wallys,  with  New 
York?" 

Sure  enough. 

Why,  my  Uncle  Tom  lived  in  New  York  !  didn't 
you  know  that  ? 

So  I  thought  New  York  was  a  great  city,  where  men 
wore  their  Sunday  clothes  every  day,  and  were  free- 


4  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

and-easy-happy-fellows-with-gigs,  like  my  uncle  Tom  j 
and,  of  course,  I  wanted  to  go  and  see  it. 

Well,  in  time  I  earned  some  money  hoeing  corn  and 
piling  up  wood  :  I  had  three  dollars,  and  my  mother 
said — 

'^  Philip,  I  shall  let  you  go  down  to  New  York  in 
the  sloop,  for  you  have  been  a  pretty  good  boy  and 
studied  your  lessons  well,  and  kept  the  garden  clean 
all  summer.'^ 

I  was  so  glad  I  almost  cried,  because  I  was  delighted 
at  going  to  New  York,  and  because  my  mother 
thought  well  of  me  :  so  I  kissed  her  twice,  and  then 
ran  to  begin  to  get  ready.  I  wanted  to  carry  all 
the  things  I  had  ;  but,  finally,  I  decided  to  take, 
besides  my  clothes,  only  my  best  bow  and  arrows. 
''  Because,"  I  said  to  myself,  ''  there  are  lots  of  ducks 
in  the  Sound,  and  I  may  shoot  some — who  knows  ?" 

My  mother  made  me  up  a  very  nice  basket  full  of 
cold  meat,  and  bread  and  butter,  and  some  cakes, 
which  made  my  mouth  water,  for  I  thought  to  myself : 

"  I  can  eat  just  when  I  like." 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  5 

I  said  to  Jerry — 

''  Jerry,  I  am  going  to  N'ew  York — hurrah  !" 

And  Jerry  wagged  his  Httle  stiff  tail,  and  jumped 
about  in  a  great  way,  for  he  knew  what  I  meant. 
Then  I  said — 

"  Jerry,  do  you  want  to  go  ?" 

And  he  did,  for  he  jumped  up  in  my  lap  and  licked 
my  face,  and  then  ran  out  into  the  green  with  his  ears 
streaming,  as  much  as  to  say — 

''  Hurrah,  boys — I  am  going  to  New  York/' 

Jerry  was  a  good  little  dog  and  a  handsome  one. 

So  he  and  I  started  for  New  York  in  the  sloop 
Golden  Grocer,  Crampton,  master  ;  and  Bill  Shelly, 
cook  and  general  sailor,  was  one  "  hand,"  and  Gils 
Hotchkiss  was  the  other.  Bill  and  I  became  good 
friends  right  off,  though  he  ventured  to  find  fault  with 
Jerry's  tail. 

''Why,"  said  he,   "what  ails  him?" 

"  Ails  him,"  I  answered,  for  I  did  not  know  but  he 
was  going  to  have  a  fit,  and  that  Bill  saw  it  in  his  eyes. 
*'  Ails  him  !  nothing  ails  him." 


6  ABOUT    NEW     YORK. 

"  Then  what  makes  his  tail  so  stiff?" 

And  Bill  was  going  to  take  hold  of  it,  but  Jerry 
knew  better  than  to  let  him,  and  whisked  round  and 
growled  sharp.     Bill  laughed  a  little  and  said — 

''  He's  a  nice  little  dog." 

*'  Ain't  he  though  !"  said  I. 

' '  But  his  tail  is  altogether  too  stiff  for  a  dog  of  his 
size." 

Captain  Crampton  laughed  out — 

*'  Haw,  haw,  haw!" 

But  Jerry  barked  away,  and  I  did  not  care  much  if 
his  tail  was  stiff. 

So  I  said  to  Bill — 

*'Dogs  with  stiff  tails  are  the  best." 

And  then  Bill  laughed,  too,  and  so  did  I. 

I  pulled  away  at  the  ropes  and  helped  to  get  up  the 
sails  as  much  as  I  could,  because  I  was  in  a  hurry  to 
get  off,  and  because  I  always  liked  to  help  when  peo- 
ple were  doing  anything.  It  was  a  pleasant  evening 
when  we  sailed  out  into  Long  Island  Sound,  and  the 
wide  blue  water  was  beautiful  to  me,  and  to  Jerry,  too, 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  7 

I  think,  for  he  stood  up  on  a  barrel  and  looked  out  to 
sea,  as  if  he  smelt  another  dog  out  there.  There  was 
another  boy  passenger  besides  me,  and  that  was  all ; 
and  we  got  a  little  acquainted  that  afternoon,  but  not 
much.  The  motion  of  the  sloop  was  at  first  very  plea- 
sant, but  the  wind  freshened  and  I  began  to  feel  very 
queer,  indeed,  in  my  stomach,  and  I  was  first  hot  and 
then  cold,  and  I  wondered  what  was  going  to  happen  j 
so  I  kept  near  to  Bill,  who  was  cooking  the  supper ; 
but  he,  after  he  had  made  the  tea,  went  to  boiling  the 
eggs  in  the  tea-kettle,  which  I  was  not  used  to  seeing, 
and  then  I  vomited  (cascaded.  Bill  called  it)  right  out, 
and  felt  better,  but  rather  ghastly. 

The  Captain  said  I  had  better  go  to  bed,  and  so  I 
thought,  and  I  went. 

"We  were  five  days  on  the  sloop,  and  I  enjoyed  it 
after  the  first,  for  the  other  boy  had  a  nice  small  gun, 
which  was  much  more  useful  than  my  bow  and 
arrows  ;  so  with  it  we  shot  away  at  the  ducks,  and 
frightened  them  pretty  well  if  we  hit  none.  At  first 
I  shut  up  both  eyes  when  I  fired,  which  any  boy  knows 


8  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

is  wrong,  but  I  soon  got  over  that.  When  we  got 
down  by  Riker's  Island  we  were  becalmed,  and  all 
went  ashore,  and  there  the  other  boy  shot  two  larks  on 
the  wing,  which  seemed  to  me  a  great  thing  to  do. 
But  the  fact  is,  that  small  shot  with  powder  behind 
them,  go  faster  than  any  bird  flies  ;  and,  if  they  are 
only  aimed  right,  will  catch  it.  We  picked  those  two 
larks  and  Bill  cooked  them,  and  we  eat  them  for  our 
supper,  and  they  tasted  good. 

Hell-gate,  through  which  one  goes  to  get  to  New 
York,  made  our  eyes  stick  out  ;  for  there  the  water 
rushed  and  boiled  in  a  great  way — there  was  the 
"Pot,''  and  the  ''Gridiron,"  and  the  "  Hog's-back  ;" 
and  upon  the  Hog's-back  was  the  wreck  of  a  schooner. 
So  I  thought,  what  should  I  do  if  our  sloop  should  get 
into  the  boiling  ' '  Pot  ?"  I  knew  Jerry  could  swim 
out  ;  but  though  I  could  swim  very  well,  I  decided 
that  the  Pot  would  be  too  much  for  me  ;  and  so  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  as  Bill  did.  When  I  asked 
Bill  what  he  would  do  if  we  got  into  the  ''Pot,"  he 
only  laughed  and  said — 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  9 

"  He  guessed  we'd  bile.'' 

The  rush  of  the  water  at  Hell-gate  is  caused  by  the 
narrowness  of  the  channel  and  the  ragged  reefs  of 
rocks  which  lie  along  the  bottom  :  but  it  is  not  now 
very  dangerous.  Indeed,  some  of  the  worst  of  the 
rocks  were  blown  up  by  some  ingenious  Frenchman  a 
few  years  ago.  Powder  in  cans  was  sunk  among 
them,  and  from  these  cans  a  wire  led  to  a  galvanic  bat- 
tery ;  when  the  battery  was  charged,  the  electric  spark 
set  fire  to  the  powder,  and  made  the  explosion. 

Along  by  Hell-gate  were  many  charming  country- 
seats  with  green  lawns  coming  down  to  the  water ;  and 
I  thought  that  if  one  could  only  live  there,  it  would  be 
better  than  going  to  heaven  ;  but  since  I  have  grown 
up  I  have  found  the  very  happiest  people  in  my  old 
town  of  Mayford,  and  the  very  miserablest  in  those 
splendid  houses. 

MARKETS. 

Bill  got  up  before  daylight,  and  came  to  wake  me. 
''  Phil !"  he  cried—"  Phil-lup  !" 


10 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK, 


But  I  was  wide  awake,  and  ready  for  him  in  four 
minutes  ;  and  up  we  went  to  Fulton  market.  There 
was  a  throng  of  people  with  their  market-wagons 
crowding  in,  and  people  husthng  to  get  places  to  be 
ready  for  morning. 

''  Hurry  up  here — cup  '  coffee  I"  cried  a  man  close 
by  me. 

''  Hurrah — cup  '  coffee!"   said  another. 


\(      ;.;     x.v.-^^^cJk-.'^-*-'^'^'^-"'*'^" 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  11 

So,  some  sat,  and  some  stood ;  and  out  came  tha 
steaming  coffee  from  the  great  can,  and  down  their 
throats  it  went  before  you  could  say  "  Jack  Robinson/' 
In  this  way  many,  many  people  took  their  breakfasts, 
and  the  jolly  fellow  who  kept  the  coffee-box  took  their 
shillings. 

Theu  we  went  into  the  market,  and  the  question  I 
asked  Bill  was — 

*'  Who  can  eat  all  those  things  ?" 

But  at  mid-day,  when  we  went  up  Broadway,  I 
asked — 

**  Where  do  all  the  people  get  their  dinners  T^ 

Many  don't  think  how  strange  a  thing  it  is  that  this 
throng  of  people  get  their  breakfasts,  dinners,  and 
suppers,  every  day,  while  nothing,  not  a  potato  or  a 
chicken,  grows  in  New  York. 

In  the  country,  every  one,  you  know,  has 

A  good  garden,  in  which  excellent  vegetables  grow. 
An  orderly  yard  in  which  nice  cocks  crow, 

a  sweet-smeUing  barn,  in  which  fresh  eggs  are  laid,  and 


12  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

SO  on  ;  thus  it  is  easy  to  see  where  some  breakfasts  come 
from.  But  on  New  York  Island,  now-a-days,  some  five 
hundred  thousand  people,  men  and  women,  boys  and 
girls,  eat  a  supper  at  night,  go  to  bed,  get  up  and  eat 
a  breakfast  in  the  morning,  without  thinking  where 
the  things  grow  (there  are  a  few  who  go  hungry). 

Now,  where  does  the  food  come  from  ? 

Go  down  into  Fulton  or  Washington  market  in  the 
morning,  and  you  will  see — 

Fat  quarters  of  beef  by  the  hundred, 

Fat  carcasses  of  sheep  by  the  hundred, 

Fat  piles  of  hogs  by  the  hundred, 

Fat  turkeys  by  the  thousand, 

Fat  geese, 

Fat  ducks,  and 

Fat  chickens — by  the  thousand. 

You  will  find  these  both  alive  and  dead : 

You  will  find  deer. 

You  will  find  rabbits. 

You  will  find  pheasants,  brought  all  the  way  from 
England, 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


13 


You  will  find  reed-birds,  fat  and  delicious,  from 
Carolina  ;  canvas-backs  from  the  Chesapeake  ;  grouse 
from  "Wisconsin. 

You  will  see  splendid  black-fish  and  sea-bass,  caught 
away  by  Block  Island  ;  rich  salmon  from  the  Kenne- 
beck  ;  smelts  from  New  Jersey  ;  speckled  trout  from 
Vermont ;  green  turtles  from  the  Tortugas. 

You  will  see  rows  of  men  with  their  sleeves  ut3 — 
Crack  !    crack  !    crack  ! 


14  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

opening  oysters  as  fast  as  they  can :  and  you  will 
see  clams  and  scallops.  Besides  these  are  unnum- 
bered barrels  of  potatoes  and  apples,  and  turnips 
and  cabbages,  and  squashes  and  lettuces,  and  celery 
and  onions,  and  what  more  I  cannot  tell.  But 
one  thing  more  I  must  tell.  There  I  saw  sky- 
blue  and  rose-pink  pigeons,  with  fan-tails,  too ;  and 
they  were  the  most  beautiful  birds  I  ever  saw ;  and 
I  wondered  whether  I  had  better  spend  my  three 
dollars  for  a  pair.  But  I  discovered  how  they  were 
made. 

' '  How  V 

The  man  said  they  came  from  China.  But  I  was 
told — and  I  believe  it,  now — that  they  were  white 
pigeons,  dyed  in  a  dye-pot,  by  an  ingenious  French- 
man, who  wanted   to  make   money  very  badly. 

And  there  the  people  are,  each  one  jamming 
about*  and  buying  and  paying  each  for  his  or  her 
piece.  But  if  you  would  see  a  beautiful  market, 
go  to  Philadelphia ;  and  Faneuil  Hall  market,  in 
Boston,   is   better   than   any  here. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  15 

I  am  told  that  in  the  large  hotels  it  is  usual 
to  buy  a  pound  of  meat  for  each  guest  each  day. 
Now,  it  is  easy  enough  to  see,  without  a  slate  and 
pencil,  that  it  would  require  500,000  pounds  of 
meat  each  day  for  the  people  of  New  York.  How 
many  cattle  (to  dress  650  pounds  each)  will  it  re- 
quire to  feed  this  city?  Clearly  seven  hundred 
and  sixty-nine  must  every  day  be  slaughtered,  and 
in  the  course  of  the  year  two  hundred  and  eighty 
thousand  six  hundred  and  eighty-five  cattle  must 
be  supplied  to  feed  us,  if  we  had  no  meat  but 
beef.  Now,  I  would  like  to  have  every  one  make 
their  own  figures  as  to  how  many  sheep  we  should 
require. 

In  fact,  185,500  horned  cattle  are  slaughtered  in 
this  city,  besides  what  are  brought  in  ready-dressed. 
This  would  make  120  millions  of  pounds,  and,  at 
9^  cents  a  pound,  about  twelve  millions  of  dollars 
a   year. 

The  idea  of  such  a  quantity  of  uncooked  food 
is  not  pleasant,  but  when  nicely  cooked  and   steam- 


16  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

ing  hot,  and  one  has  had  a  good  scramble  in  the 
the  woods,  or  a  game  of  "base,"  then  it  tastes 
good ;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  see  a  table  full  of  good 
healthy  boys  and  girls,  who  eat  (but  not  like  pigs), 
enjoying   their   dinners. 

Besides  all  the  cattle,  think  of  the  thousands  of 
barrels  of  flour  that  are  consumed  here.  Say  there 
are  100,000  families  in  New  York,  and  each  con- 
sumes six  barrels  a  year,  I  shall  be  glad  to  know 
how  many  they  will  require?  Between  2,000,000 
and  3,000,000  barrels  a  year  are  brought  to  New 
York   for   use   and   sale. 

Well,  here  are  the  people,  and  here  is  the  food. 
Now,  where  does  the  food  come  from?  and  how 
does   it   get   here  ? 

Simply  thus : — When  you  see  a  fine  steer  fatten- 
ing in  the  Kentucky  woods,  or  a  pig  foraging  for 
"masf  in  Ohio,  or  a  field  of  yellow  wheat  waving 
in  the  wind  of  Wisconsin,  or  a  smack  catching  blue- 
fish  off  Montauk  Point,  you  may  be  pretty  sure  that 
somehow  all  these  will  get  to  the  New  York  market. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  17 

And  how  does  it  all  get  there?  Why,  all  sorts 
of  wagons  and  teams  are  engaged  in  hauhng  the 
crops  to  steam-boats  and  rail-road  cars,  and  sloops 
and  schooners ;  and  at  last  down  all  these  come, 
pom*ing  out  their  living  or  dead  freight  on  to  the 
docks  of  the  East  and  North  (or  Hudson)  rivers. 

There  stand  scores  of  men,  merchants,  hucksters, 
and  market-men,  who  quickly  receive  the  things, 
and  carry  them  off  for  the  breakfasts  and  dinners 
of  their  customers. 

Locomotives  come  in  puffing  and  dragging  trains 
loaded  with  milk,  and  men  rattle  through  the  streets 
before  sun-up,  shouting — 

''M-e-i-1-k-eP^ 
''W-h-o-e-u-p-e!" 
''Wide- Awake!" 

And  how  do  the  people  in  the  city  get  money 
to  pay  the  farmers  and  the  millers  and  the  fisher- 
men  for   all   this  food? 

That  is  an  interesting  question — who'll  answer  it? 

Many  a  boy  (or   girl)    who   reads   this   will   think 


18  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

of  hog-killing  time  in  the  winter,  and  with  pleasure, 
too  ;  not  because  of  the  bloody  and  dirty  work, 
but  because  there  are  such  strings  of  sausages,  and 
good  hams,  and  pork  and  pease,  in  the  prospect  ; 
and  because  the  day  is  one  of  a  few  holidays — 
and   because   the   boy   gets 

THE     TAIL     TO    ROAST ! 

For  my  part,  I  cannot  but  think  that  those  who 
have  land,  and  raise  their  own  food,  have  as  good 
a  time  as  the  city  folk ;  and  (if  they  choose)  better 
food,  and  better  health,  and  better  milk,  and  more 
sunshine^   and   heartier   children. 

THE     EMIGRANTS. 

I  heard  people,  in  New  York,  talking  in  the 
strangest  way.  Some  said:  "  Bonjour — Bonjour." 
(Good   morning.) 

' '  Comment  vous  portez-vous  V^     (How  are  you  ?) 

"II  fait  beau  temps."     (Fine  day.) 

Others  said:  "  Wie  viel  verdienen  sie  per  Monat  ?" 
(How  much  do  you  earn  a  month  ?) 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  19 

"Zehn  Dollars,  Kost  und  Wohnung.'^  (Ten  dollars 
and  my  board.) 

''Ich  babe  fiinf  und  zwanzig  Dollars  an  meinen 
Vater  nacb  Deutscbland  gescbicbt.'^  (I  sent  twenty- 
five   dollars  to  Germany,  for  my  fatber.) 

''Das  ist  gut."     (Tbat  is  good.) 

Tben  again  I  beard  one  say ;  ' '  It's  loike  wiiU  bev 
foine  crops  tbe  yer" — and  be  was  stout  and  burly. 

And  again,  a  woman  said:  "And  sbure  now,  me 
dear,  it's  too  dear  ye  are,  and  not  cbape  at  all, 
for  it's  but  a  sorra  fisb  indade  for  a  sbillin'  casb." 

So  I  said :  ' '  Bill,  wbat  are  tbese  people  tbat  talk  so 
queerly  ?" 

"Furriners,"  said  Bill:  wbicb  means  Foreigners — 
people  born  out  of  America ....  And  tbe  first  was  a 
Frencbman ;  and  tbe  second  was  a  German ;  and  tbe 
tbird  was  a  Yorksbireman  ;  and  tbe  last  was  an  Irisb- 
man — if  one  may  call  a  woman  a  man. 

But  soon  I  saw  anotber  very  curious  figure.  He 
wore  tbick-soled,  crooked-toed,  embroidered  sboes, 
and   wide,  sbort   trowsers,  and   a  blue  frock,  like  a 


20 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


shirt,  and  a  little  cap  ;  and  then  he  had  a  brown  skin, 
like  an  Indian,  and  long,  slender  eyes,  and  a  very 
ugly  nose  ;  and  down  his  back  lay  his  hair  to  his  waist, 
braided  in  a  tail,  and  tied  with  a  ribbon. 

I  had  never  seen  so  strange  a  man ;  and  I  seized 
hold  of  Bill,  and  said  :  ' '  What's  that  r 

Bill  laughed — ha !  ha !  ha ! — because  he  saw  I  was  a 
little  afraid,  and  said  :  ''A  Chinaman  j  that's  all." 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  21 

He  had  come  a  long  way  over  the  sea,  from  a  land 
which  is  called  the  '' Flowery  Kingdom/^  and  the 
''Celestial;''  from  the  land  that  sells  us  so  much  tea, 
and  buys  so  much  opium.  In  that  land  they  despise  us 
a  great  deal  more  than  we  here  do  them  ;  and,  in  that 
land,  a  man,  with  a  swallow- tailed  coat  and  stove-pipe 
hat,  or  a  woman,  with  a  dab  of  wire  and  lace  on  the 
back  of  her  head,  for  a  bonnet — who  was  flounced  and 
hooped  up  to  the  waist — would  so  make  them  laugh, 
that  the  Chinese  nation  would  split,  and  then  we 
should  have  no  more  tea. 

I  think,  therefore,  it  is  not  well  to  dislike  a  man  or 
a  woman,  because  he  or  she  happens  to  be  born  there, 
not  here ;  for  a  person  cannot  choose  where  he  will  be 
born.  N^ow,  we  Americans  have  our  merits,  and  we 
have  our  vices  as  other  nations  have  ;  and  when  you 
hear  the  Irish  or  English  talk,  it  sounds  strange.  But 
almost  all  Americans  talk  through  the  nose,  fearfully — 
this  way : 

''Wal,  neow,  Bill,  you  goin'  deown  teown?'' 

That  sounds  strange  to  an  Englishman,  who  talks 


22  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

with  his  stomach,  not  with  his  nose.  Then,  nearly  all 
Massachusetts  people  put  the  g's  in  the  wrong  place — 
this  way : 

'' Wal,  Cap'n,  you're  goin'  to  Bosting,  eh?" 

And  now  a  little  anecdote  conies  back  to  me,  that  I 
heard  long  ago.  It  was  a  dispute  between  two  colored 
men,  as  to  what  made  a  man  a  citizen  of  America. 

One  said  :  ''  He  must  be  horn  here." 

The  other  said  :  ' '  He  must  live  here  in  de  country, 
sure." 

And  so  the  dispute  ran  high,  and  the  first  one 
said : 

"  The  Englishman  was  born  in  England,  and  so 
could  not  be  American  ;  but  if  de  Englishman  was 
born  in  America,  den  he  was  American  ;  dat's  all." 

''Now  look  here,"  said  the  other,  "you  jes  look 
here — answer  me  dis :  If  a  kitten  is  born  in  de  oven,  is 
dat  bread  ? — answer  me  dat  now — is  dat  bread  ?  and 
if  de  American  is  born  in  England,  is  dat  Englishman? 
— answer  me  dat  now." 

"  Wah,  wah,  wah!" — they  both  laughed. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  23 

But  all  sorts  of  people  come  to  America,  and  many 
of  them  are  poor  and  ignorant ;  and  they  come  here 
because  there  is  no  spare  land  in  those  old  coimtries 
for  them  to  raise  crops  upon,  while  here  there  is ;  and 
they  do  lots  of  work,  and  have  helped  to  make  us  and 
themselves  rich. 

It  must  be  a  hard  thing  for  them  to  leave  their 
homes,  which,  however  poor,  are  their  homes,  and  on 
some  accounts,  dear — to  leave  them  and,  with  wives 
and  httle  children,  get  on  board  a  ship,  and  sail  away 
across  the  broad  and  stormy  Atlantic  ocean,  to  a  coun- 
try they  know  almost  nothing  about.  And  then,  when 
they  get  here,  to  know  nobody  and  nothing  of  the 
country,  nor  where  to  go,  nor  what  to  do :  besides 
that,  the  long  voyage  in  the  cramped  hold  of  a  ship  is 
apt  to  make  very  many  sick,  and  that  is  added  to  their 
troubles.  Then,  too,  in  the  cities,  men  have  such 
needs  for  money,  and  so  hunger  for  it,  that  they  cheat 
one  another  without  stint ;  and  these  poor  emigrants 
are  fleeced  and  plucked  shamefully — Germans  cheat 
German  ;  Irishmen,   Irish  ;  Frenchmen,   French ;  and 


24 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


Americans,  the  whole.  This  knavery  had  come  to 
such  a  pass,  that,  last  year,  the  Commissioners  of 
Emigration,  who  try  to  help  and  protect  the  new- 
comers,  hired  Castle    Garden,   for   a 


landing-place,  where  they  may 
stay  a  day  or  two,  and, 
if  possible,  escape  the 
swindlers. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  25 

Castle  Garden  used  to  be  a  fort,  and  was  full  of 
guns,  and  it  stands  by  the  open  ground  still  called 
*'The  Battery,"  and  faces  out  upon  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  bays  and  noblest  harbors  in  the  world,  always 
alive  with  ships  and  steamers.  Some  years  ago,  it  was 
turned  into  an  opera-house,  where  I  went,  in  the 
charming  summer  evenings,  to  hear  Bosio,  and  Son- 
tag,  and  Truffi,  and  Salvi,  and  many  more,  in  that 
surprising  entertainment  called  an  Opera  ;  so  I  thought, 
a  few  days  ago,  I  will  go  down  and  see  how  it  looks 
now  ;  and  I  went. 

Once  I  had  seen  it  filled  with  ladies,  covered  with 
silks,  and  laces,  and  perfumes.  Now  it  was  filled  with 
men,  women,  and  children,  just  landed  from  England, 
wearing  every  variety  of  clothes ;  of  whom  I  give  you 
one  group. 

These  six  hundred  people  were  grouped  about,  in  the 
great  circular  room,  with  their  children  lying  on  their 
piles  of  luggage  and  bedding.  Some  of  them  were 
jolly,  but  more  of  the  little  children  were  crying  and 
looked  very  miserable.     I  said  to  one  woman : 


26  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

''You  are  from  England?'^ 

"  We  are,"  she  replied. 

"  How  many  are  with  you?" 

"  I  have  nine  children,  and  my  sister  five." 

I  looked  at  the  poorly- dressed  things,  and  felt  sorry 
that  they  did  not  look  hearty,  and  brown,  and  rugged, 
like  country-bred  children. 

She  told  me  they  were  from  Birmingham  city,  and 
were  going  to  the  Mormons. 

"  What,"  said  I,  "  are  you  Mormons?" 

"We  are  ;  and  there  are  five  hundred  and  sixty  on 
board  our  ship,  the  Emerald  Isle." 

"All  going  to  Deseret?" 

"Yes." 

I  told  her  it  was  a  long  journey  from  here  to  St. 
Louis,  thence  to  St.  Joseph,  and  thence  across  the 
wide  and  barren-  "  Plains." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "but  when  we  get  there  we  shall 
have  some  land  of  our  own,  and  a  home." 

Think  of  it ;  nearly  all  these  people  had  never  had 
a  foot  of  land,  nor  a  shingle  of  roof  they  could  call  their 


ABOUT     NKW     YORK.  27 

own ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  the  prospect  of  getting 
these,  went  far  towards  persuading  them  to  join  the 
Mormons,  who  are  a  very  singular  and  unfortunate  sect. 

THE     SHIPS. 

The  Golden  Grocer  lay  in  Peck  slip,  where  she  sold 
potatoes  and  turnips,  and  cheeses  and  eggs,  and  was 
one  of  the  market-boats.  I  rather  liked  to  stay  with 
Bill,  and  sell  to  the  people  who  came  down  to  buy :  T 
liked  it,  because  it  was  being  busy,  and  because  Bill, 
now  and  then,  told  me  about  things  that  I  knew 
nothing  of  There  is  nothing  which  strikes  one,  on 
first  landing  on  the  docks  at  New  York,  more  strangely 
than  the  great  number  and  majestic  size  of  some  of  the 
ships.  Mast  after  mast  extends  away  along  the  shore 
as  far  as  one  can  see,  and  in  a  high  wind  the  sound  in 
in  the  rigging  is  as  of  great  rude  harps.  One  day 
when  a  big  ship  went  sailing  by,  I  said, 

"Bill,  look,  there's  a  stout  shi]3,  there  now!" 
''Pretty  fair,"  said  he,    "but  I've  known   stouter 
ships  than  she  sail  away  and  never  come  back." 


28  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

''  Now,  Bill,  tell  me  about  it.'' 

''  Once  I  went  sailor  in  the  good  ship  the  Swallow, 
a  long  voyage,  round  Cape  Horn.  She  was  a  tight 
little  ship,  and  held  water.  Well,  we  were  two 
months  getting  there,  and  didn't  see  a  sail.  Now, 
you  must  know  that  round  Cape  Horn  the  wind 
turns  a  corner,  and  gets  dreadfully  tangled  up,  and 
don't  blow  no  kind  of  way  straight  and  steady ;  and 
sometimes  it  will  blow  hard  right  into  your  eyes, 
so  that  you  can  hardly  shut  'em  ;  and  then  it  will 
chop  round  and  almost  blow  your  hair  overboard : 
that's  the  way  it  does  round  Cape  Horn." 

"Does  it  though?"  I  said. 

''Yes,  it  does.  Well,  we  got  into  that  kind  of 
winds,  and  our  little  ship  behaved  beautiful  —  yes 
she  did  :  but  the  wind  blew  some  of  our  sails  into 
carpet-rags,  and  one  night  they  went  clean  out  of 
the  gaskets :  that's  the  way  that  wind  did." 

''Did  it  though?"  I  said. 

"Yes,  it  did:  and  so  that  night  I  was  on  deck, 
and   our   ship  was   driving   before   this   wind,   and  I 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.*  29 

was  holding  on  and  trying  to  keep  a  'look-out;' 
and  the  salt  waves  were  dashing  over  us  and  thun- 
dering down  on  our  deck,  so  that  the  timbers  of 
the  tight  little  Swallow  quivered — they  did/'  he  said, 
looking  down  at  me. 

"Did  they  though ?''  I  said. 

"Yes,  they  did:  and  now  and  then  it  lightened; 
when  I  looked  out  sharp — sharp  as  I  could — and 
once  I  thought  I  saw  the  big  hull  of  a  ship :  dear 
me,  what  a  sight!  Then  the  Cap'n  sung  out  'Ship 
ahead!  hard  up !'  and  he  jump'd  to  the  wheel,  which 
steers  the  ship  you  know — " 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "and  then  what?'' 

"  Then  we  just  rushed  past  her,  and  she  was 
rolling  heavily,  and  when  it  lightened  again  we 
saw  the  sailors,  and  knew  that  she  was  a  whaler ; 
and  when  it  lightened  again  I  saw  she  had  lurched, 
and  that  the  sea  was  playing  havoc  with  her ;  and 
then  I  heard  a  scream !  and  when  I  looked  again 
she  was  not  there — " 

"Where  was  she?"  I  said. 


30  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

^  Gone  to  Davy  Jones's  locker.'' 

''Where  was  that?" 

'Gone  down." 

'Into  the  sea?"  I  said. 

^'Yes." 

'  And  the  sailors?" 

'All  drowned — every  one." 

'Now,  Bill,"  I  said,   "is  that  true?" 

'Every  blessed  word  on't." 
I  had  been  thinking  that  it  might  be  pleasant  to 
go  to  sea,  when  I  got  big  enough ;  but  this  did 
not  promise  very  well.  Few  know  what  a  mighty 
power  the  water  has.  It  is  only  some  two  years 
since  that  the  entire  bow  (nearly  down  to  the 
water)  of  a  strong  steam-ship  was  knocked  clean 
off  by  a  single  wave ;  and  the  ship  was  obliged  to 
make  her  port  in  Chesapeake  bay  (which  any  one 
can  find  on  the  map)  as  quick  as  she  could.  But 
strong  as  ships  are,  and  as  waves  are,  there  are 
things,  in  one  sense,  stronger  than  they ;  and  they 
are  whales.     One  of  the  most  surprising  things  hap- 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


31 


pened  only  a  short  time  since.  A  whaling- ship,  the 
Essex,  was  cruising  away  on  our  northwest  coast, 
towards  Behring's  Straits  (look  at  the  map),  hunt- 
ing for  whales ;  when,  one'  day,  the  captain  saw  a 
whale  basking  on  the  top  of  the  water,  and  he 
shouted,   ''All  hands  ahoy!  whale!  whale!"' 

And  up  all  the  men  tumbled,  and  manned  their 
boats,  and  were  ready  for  the  chase,  when  the  cap- 
tain noticed  that  the  whale  was  making  towards 
them,    which   was   uncommon.      He    came    on    faster 


32  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

and  faster,  and  the  captain  jumped  up  on  the  bul- 
warks of  the  ship,  and  shouted : 

''Keep  away!   or  he'll  strike  us." 

And  he  did,  and  the  ship  trembled  as  though 
she  had  struck  a  rock. 

What  to  think  of  this,  the  captain  did  not  know, 
and  all  hands  were  called  to  the  pumps  ;  for  the 
blow  was  so  heavy  that  he  feared  the  ship  might 
be  leaking.  But  while  they  were  doing  this,  the 
strangest  thing  happened  :  the  whale  had  passed, 
evidently  hurt  with  the  blow ;  but  then  he  turned 
and  again  came  at  the  ship,  and  gave  it  another 
such  shock  that  the  damage  was  done,  and  there 
was  no  keeping  the  water  out  of  her,  and  she 
sank. 

The  crew  saved  themselves  in  their  boats,  and 
reached  the  shore,  where,  for  some  months,  they 
Uved  like  Robinson  Crusoe. 

Now,  I  admit  that  this  is  a  sort  of  a  ''fish  story'' 
— a  kind  of  story  that  some  doubt — but  it  was  well 
attested,  and  I  have  never  seen  it  disputed. 


ABQUT    NEW    YORK.  33 

The  boys  and  girls  will  believe  it,  or  disbelieve  it, 
as  they  Hke.  I  was  not  there  myself  (and  I  am  glad 
of  it),  so  I  cannot  say  I  saw  it.  But  since  that  time, 
an  English  ship,  the  Waterloo,  and  the  Ann  Alexan- 
der, and  the  Parker  Cook,  have  been  smik  by  wSales, 
and  what  others  I  do  not  know.  It  is  certainly  true, 
that  no  wave  is  strong  enough  to  sink  a  whale  : 
down  he  dives,  to  the  depths  of  the  deepest  ocean, 
and  up  he  rises  and  spouts  out  the  brine.  The 
wind  may  blow  as  it  likes — he  "blows,"  too. 

In  old  times,  sailors  used  to  be  called  "  Jolly  Tars," 
and  *' Jack  Tars,"  and  sometimes  they  were  jolly,  but 
always  tarry.  Many  young  men  go  to  sea,  because 
they  get  tired  of  staying  at  home,  and  tired  of  working 
on  the  farm,  and  because  they  want  to  see  what  the 
world  is  made .  of,  and  to  have  adventures.  They  do 
not  have  an  easy  time,  and  their  seeing  costs  about  as 
much  as  it  comes  to,  I  think. 

Still  their  life  of  danger  and  adventure  tends  to  give 
them  a  boisterous,  reckless,  careless  way  that  is  rather 
taking.       They   wear    curiously  cut    clothes — trowsers 


34 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


buttoned  tight  about  the  hi^os,  with  wide  bottoms,  blue 
flannel  shirts,  blue  broad- cloth  round-jackets,  with  lots 
of  buttons,  and  a  flat-crowned  tarpaulin  hat :  that  has 

come  to  be  the  sailor's  dress.  And 
when  they  get  ashore,  with  their 
brown  faces  and  sea-legs,  they  roll 
about  on  the  steady  land,  as  much  as 
we  do  on  their  rolling  ships.  It  used 
to  be  the  fashion  for  good  honest  fel- 
lows to  go  voyages,  and  work  hard, 
and  earn  a  little  money ;  and  then  it 
was  thought  rather  mean,  and  decided- 
ly not  "jolly,"  if  they  did  not  come  ashore,  and  swag- 
ger about,  and  go  a  riding  in  carriages,  and  give 
presents  to  their  sweethearts,  and  drink  grog,  and  get 
drunk,  and  fight,  and  then  go  to  the  "lock-up,"  and 
then  be  sick,  and  miserable,  and  poor  ;  and  then  to  be 
forced  to  go  to  sea,  and  return  and  to  do  it  over  again. 
That's  the  way  sailors  did  :  and  there  were  many 
to  pat  them  on  the  back  and  get  tlieir  money  ;  and 
there  are  many  who  call  lliis  "jolly;"  and  there  are 


^^. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  35 

some  now,  to  this  day,  who  feel  angry  because  we 
wish  "grog"  to  be  abohshed  in  our  navy;  but  I 
am  not  one  of  them,  for  rum  is  the  sailor's  worst 
enemy. 

The  sailor  is  a  man,  and  deserves  to  be  treated  like 
a  man,  and  to  hve  like  a  man,  and  to  die  hke  a  man ; 
which,  on  most  ships  sailing  out  of  Xew  York,  he  has 
not  been  able  to  do.  But  things  are  better  than  they 
were.  There  are  more  than  70,000  sailors  belonging 
to  the  United  States,  who  man  20,000  vessels,  of  all 
sorts  and  sizes,  and  the  most  come  from  Massachu- 
setts and  Maine. 

They  are  not  up  to  the  sharp  cheating  tricks  of 
traders,  but  they  have  many  a  trick  of  their  own.  I 
remember  how  a  large  shark  followed  a  ship  for  days, 
and  hovered  about  for  something  to  eat ;  but  he  was 
too  cunning  to  take  the  bait  with  a  hook  in  it,  and  how 
to  catch  him  the  sailors  did  not  know.  They  saw  that 
he  would  rush  at  any  scraps  they  threw  overboard,  so 
they  kept  feeding  him  and  coaxing  him  along,  and  got 
him  to  snap  at  a  piece  of  meat  almost  before  it  would 


36  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

touch  the  water  ;  then  they  heated  a  small  cannon 
ball  nearly  red  hot,  and,  finding  he  would  snap  at 
a  piece  of  beef,  they  tossed  over  the  ball ;  down  he 
swallowed  it,  and  that  was  the  last  they  ever  saw  of 
him. 

It  must  have  beat  Doctor  Brandreth's  patent  vege- 
table pills,  hollow. 

I  do  not  say  that  nobody  should  go  to  sea  ;  for  there 
are  thousands  in  Maine  and  Massachusetts  who  begin 
in  the  cod-fishery  off  Newfoundland,  and  become 
brave,  gallant  seamen — who  are  better  off  for  doing 
so  ;  because  they  could  not  all  live  well  in  such  a 
rocky  country.  But,  I  do  say,  that  any  boy  who 
goes  to  sea  expecting  to  have  a  nice  easy  life,  being 
"jolly"  all  the  day,  will  be  a  little  mistaken.  This  is 
what  Richard  Dana,  a  Boston  boy,  who  went  a  voyage 
as  a  sailor,  says  about  it,  and  you  wih  see  that  it  is  not 
exactly  what  some  boys,  who  have  comfortable  homes 
that  they  are  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  from,  think  it. 
He  says : 

"I  now  began  to   feel    the   first   discomforts    of  a 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  37 

sailor's  life.  The  steerage,  in  which  I  hved,  was  filled 
with  coils  of  rigging,  spare  sails,  old  junk,  and  ship 
stores,  which  had  not  been  stowed  away.  Moreover, 
there  had  been  no  berths  built  for  us  to  sleep  in,  and 
we  were  not  allowed  to  drive  nails  to  hang  our  clothes 
upon.  The  sea,  too,  had  risen,  the  vessel  was  rolling 
heavily,  and  everything  was  pitched  about  in  grand 
confusion.  There  was  a  complete  'hurrah's  nest,' as 
the  sailors  say,  '  everything  on  top  and  nothing  at 
hand.'  A  large  hawser  had  been  coiled  away  upon 
my  chest ;  my  hats,  boots,  mattress,  and  blankets  had 
all  fetched  away  and  gone  over  to  leeward,  and  were 
jammed  and  broken  under  the  coils  of  rigging.  To 
crown  all,  we  were  allowed  no  hght  to  find  anything 
with,  and  I  was  just  beginning  to  feel  strong  symptoms 
of  sea-sickness,  and  that  listlessness  and  inactivity 
which  accompany  it.  Giving  up  all  attempts  to  collect 
my  things  together,  I  lay  down  upon  the  sails,  expect- 
ing every  moment  to  hear  the  cry  'all  hands  ahoy,' 
which  the  approaching  storm  would  soon  make  neces- 
sary." 


38 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


And  in  a  few  minutes  it  came,  and  up  Dana  had  to 
tumble  to  help  take  in  sail. 

Bill  took  me  up  to  one  of  the  ship-yards  near  the 
"Hook,"  when  I  first  went  to  JSTew  York,  and,  when 
we  got  into  it,  I  was  astonished  at  the  immense  size 
of  a  hull  as  it  stood  on  the  stocks.  It  towered  up 
above  our  heads  like  a  precipice  ;  and,  all  over  it, 
there  were  men  hammering,  and  planing,  and  saw- 
ing ;  and  I  remember  thinking  that  Noah's  Ark  could 
hardly  have  been  as  bis:  as  that. 


\  ^\;X^ 


sCOc-^' 


->v-^-'^'- 


•:  ^, "->>>■ 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  39 

Indeed,  I  believe  Captain  l^oali  would  have  been 
more  surprised  than  I  was.  Even  Bill  was  startled, 
for  he  said,   right  out:  ''By  Golly  I" 

Whatever  that  may  mean,  I  do  not  know,  but  it 
always  seemed  to  relieve  Bill — so  he  said  :  "By  Golly, 
but  she  is  big!'' 

"  Bigger  than  the  Golden  Grocer — isn't  she.  Bill?" 

''  The  Grocer  ain't  anything  but  a  wash-tub,"  he 
said. 

He  seemed  so  disgusted  that  I  asked  him  if  he  was 
sick  ;  but,  he  said,  he  was  a  thousand  miles  away  from 
that.  We  went  all  over  the  ship,  and  then  returned  to 
the  Golden  Grocer,  where  we  sold  potatoes,  and  boiled 
eggs  in  the  tea-kettle  just  as  before,  and  were  not 
proud  because  we  had  seen  the  great  ship. 

I  think  every  one  will  be  interested  to  know  that  it 
takes  the  timber  from  forty  acres  of  wood-land  to  build 
a  large  war-ship.  The  Niagara  war-ship,  belonging  to 
the  United  States,  which  has  just  been  launched,  will 
cost  over  ten  hundred  thousand  dollars ;  and,  as  every 
person  in  the  United  States  lias  to  pay  something,  we 


40  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

ought  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  she  is  a 
good  ship,  if  she  did  cost  us  so  much.  At  any  rate  she 
is  large — for  she  measures,  on  deck,  345  feet,  and 
carries  5,200  tuns  :  her  mast,  from  keel  to  flag,  is  200 
feet  high  ;  higher  than  most  steeples — and  enough  to 
make  one  dizzy.  She  will  require,  to  man  her,  four 
hundred  men — as  many  as  make  a  small  town. 

I  guess  if  Bill  had  seen  her  he  would  have  said  some- 
thing else  than  "By  Golly!"  which,  in  my  opinion,  is 
not  a  very  handsome  word.  I  have  my  own  views 
about  the  use  of  such  phrases,  and  I  very  well  remem- 
ber that,  when  we  were  boys,  and  were  playing  in  my 
uncle's  yard,  one  of  us  said  right  out,  "I  vow!" 

My  uncle  heard  him  and  said,  quite  sharply, 
''What's  that!  What's  that!     I  vow?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  said,  for  I  would  not  deny  my  words. 

After  waiting  a  minute,  he  said  to  me:  "What 
do   you   say    'I    vow'    for?     Why    don't   you   say — I 

SWAGGERS  ?" 

I  said  neither  "  I  vow,"  nor  "  I  swaggers,"  that  day, 
again. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  41 

CHILDREN. 

When  I  first  went  to  New  York,  in  the  Golden 
GTrocer,  with  Bill  Shelly,  I  thought  it  would  be  splendid 
to  live  where  there  were  so  many  houses,  and  where 
one  could  have  baker's-bread,  "twist,"  every  day;  and 
I  said  to  Bill,  * '  Bill,  wouldn't  you  like  to  live  in  New 
York,  if  you  were  me  ?" 

Then  he  said  to  me,  "If  you  was  a  robin  red-breast, 
would  you  like  to  live  in  a  cage,  and  only  look  at  red 
bricks  r 

"Of  course  I  wouldn't,  Bill.  I'm  not  a  fool!" 
Then  Bill  pinched  Jerry's  tail,  and  we  had  a  grand 
"  Bow-wow,"  and  a  laugh — for  Jerry  was  very  angry. 

"But,"  said  I,  "why  not.  Bill — why  not  hve  in 
New  York?" 

"  Look  here,  Phil.,  don't  you  want  to  see  the  trees?" 
"Yes." 

'  'And  the  blossoms  ?"    ' '  Yes." 

*  'And  to  gather  the  fruit  ?"     ' '  Yes." 

"And  don't  you  want  to  hear  the  birds  sing,  and  the 


42  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

COWS  moo,  and  the  hens  cackle,  and  don't  you  want  to 
find  the  eggs  ?" 

^'Of  course  I  do,  Bill" 

"And  don't  you  want  to  go  out  into  the  woods  for 
huckleberries  and  blackberries,  and  to  shake  down  the 
rattling  nuts  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  !" 

"  Then,  when  it  comes  wdnter,  don't  you  like  to  live 
where  there  are  hills  for  sliding,  and  ponds  for  skating, 
and  don't  you  think  it's  nice  to  make  traps  for  quails  ?" 

''Yes,  I  do!" 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Bill,  "  what  do  you  want  to  live 
here  for  ? — here  you  can't  run  nor  holler,  and  there's 
nothing  for  a  boy  to  do,  as  I  can  see,  and  not  much  for 
a  girl,  except  go  to  school,  which  nobody  ought  to 
do  all  the  time.  Now,  it's  well  enough  for  you  to  come 
down  here  once  in  a  while,  in  a  nice  sloop,  like  the 
Golden  Grocer,  with  me  to  take  care  of  you,  but  what 
do  you  want  to  live  here  for  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  on  the  whole,"  I  said,  "but  I  like 
Mayford  the  best." 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


43 


''To  be  sure  you  do,"  he  said.  "Now,  you  just 
go  up  about  the  streets,  and  see  what  children  have 
to  do  here." 

So  I  went ;  and  one  of  the  first  boys  I  saw  had 
a  basket  slung  on  his  shoulders,  piled  up  with  bits 
of  kindling-wood — that  way. 

I     watched    him, 


and  every  little  while 
he  drawled  out — 
"  B-i-m-e  -  w-o-o-d," 
which,  I  found  out, 
meant  pine-wood ; 
and  that  that  boy 
got  his  living  by 
getting  together  old 
bits  of  boards,  cut- 
ting them  up,  and 
then  selling  them,  in 
this  way,  for  kind- 
ling, to  poor  people. 


almost  as   poor   as   he.      Then   I   saw   lots   of  little 


44  ABOUT    NEW     YORK. 

ragged  boys  and  girls,  too — very,  very  dirty — who 
were  scuffling  about,  wherever  there  were  bags  of 
coffee  and  hogsheads  of  sugar  on  the  docks ;  and 
that,  with  pieces  of  stick,  they  hooked  some  out 
of  them  when  they  could.  But,  whenever  the  cap- 
tain or  a  pohce  officer  came  along,  away  they  all 
scattered,  so  as  not  to  be  caught. 

Those  are  little  dock-rogues  (''wharf-rats,"  as  some 
call  them),  who  live  by  pilfering.  Some  of  the  poor 
creatures  have  fathers  and  mothers,  who  tell  them 
to  do  so  ;  and  some  of  these  young  things  take  care 
of  themselves  and  live  as  they  can. 

Since  that  time  I  have  found  houses  in  the  city 
filled  with  such  poor  families.  One  night  I  went, 
with  a  policeman,  at  midnight,  into  the  cellar  of  a 
house  in  Water  street,  where  there  were  six  beds, 
filled  with  men  and  women,  and  these  poor  children. 
The  cellar  was  dark,  damp,  dirty,  and  foul,  and  how 
any  child  could  live  in  such  a  place,  I  could  not 
see. 

I   shuddered   to   think  of  it,   and  I  felt  glad  that 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  45 

I  was  born  in  Mayford,  where  the  air  is  pure,  and 
the  water  clean,  and  where  there  were  no  poor 
children  like  these ;  and  I  determined  to  do  all  I 
could  to  help  the  "  Children's- Aid  Society,"  which, 
last  year,  got  country  homes  for  a  thousand  of  these 
little  vagrants. 

These  boys  and  girls  are  just  the  same,  my  school- 
fellows, as  you  are  ;  but  they  have  not  good  fathers 
and  mothers  to  teach  them  to  be  clean  and  good, 
and  to  buy  them  clothes  and  books,  and  the  thou- 
sand things  that  many  children  have  without  think- 
ing how  they  get  them. 

Well,  then,  there's  another  set  of  boys — queer 
fellows  they  are,  too — the  news-boys.  They  are  a 
sort  of  little  Cossacks.  Whenever  a  ship  comes  in 
with  news,  and  "extras"  are  printed,  they  watch 
to  buy  the  first  papers,  and  away  they  scud,  all 
over  the  city,  crying  and  shouting  till  they  are 
hoarse,  '"Rival  of  the  'Cific!"  "Great  noos!"  "  Em- 
prur's   baby!"     "Peace  prospek,"  and  so  on. 

But   on   Sundays   they   travel   over   the    city  with 


46  ABOUT    Nl^W    YORK. 

their  pile  of  papers,  shouting,  with  all  kinds  of  voices, 
something  like  this  :  "  Sud'day  Muk'ry,  Sud'day  Tibes, 
Sud'day  'Spatch,  Sud'day  Cooria,  Sud'day  'Erald." 

Which  of  course  means,  as  every  boy  and  girl  will 
know,  the  Sunday  Mercury,  Times,  Dispatch,  Courier, 
and  Herald. 

Many  of  these  boys  are  very  smart,  and  some  of 
them  make  a  good  deal  of  money :  some  have  sup- 
ported themselves  from  the  time  they  were  eight 
years  old.  They  were  once  in  the  habit  of  sleeping 
about  on  the  stairs  of  the  newspaper  offices ;  but 
within  the  last  two  years  a  lodging-house  has  been 
fitted  up  for  them,  where  they  can  have  a  clean 
bed  and  a  warm,  comfortable  room  for  six  cents  a 
night ;  and  there,  Mr.  Tracy,  the  superintendent, 
teaches  them  how  to  wash  their  faces,  and  take 
care  of  their  clothes  and  earnings,  and  the  little  fel- 
lows now  like  him,  and  are  every  day  growing  better 
than  they  once  were. 

There  are  many  and  many  little  boys  and  girls  who 
are  sent  out  daily  to  beg.      I   have  met  them  in  the 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


47 


cold  days  of  winter,  shivering  and  crying,  and  without 
stockings  or  shoes,  begging  for  a  penny.  It  is  hard 
to  refuse  them,  though,  in  many  cases,  their  parents 
spend  their  pennies  all  in  grog-shops,  which  abound  in 
New  York.  For  my  part,  when  I  see  these  dirty, 
suffering  children,  I  think  I  would  rather  be  anything 
than  a  grog-seller. 

Perhaps  the  poor  children  who  have  the  best  time 
are  those  who  go  round  with  the  organs  and  the  mon- 
keys. 


48  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

Nearly  all  the  organ-grinders  are  Italians,  and 
nearly  all  like  to  own  monkeys  ;  for  everybody  likes 
to  see  them,  they  are  such  quaint,  queer  little  mounte- 
banks oi  men.  They  are  rigged  out  with  a  hat  and 
coat,  dance  to  the  music,  after  a  fashion,  and  soon  like 
to  pick  up  the  pennies,  when  they  jump  up  to  their 
master,  and  put  them  in  his  pocket.  They  will  almost 
always  fly  at  cats,  and  may  be  made  jealous  of  peo- 
ple. I  one  day  saw  a  boy  pick  up  a  penny  which  had 
been  thrown  on  to  the  side-walk,  when  the  httle  black 
monkey  flew  at  him,  and  jumped  up  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  pulled  away  at  the  boy's  hair  till 
he  dropped  the  penny  and  ran  for  home.  Then 
the  monkey  picked  up  the  penny  and  chattered  away, 
and  grinned  with  great  glee. 

During  the  winter,  the  organ-players  live  in  town — 
people,  children,  and  monkeys — pretty  much  all  in 
common,  and  in  filth.  In  the  evenings  they  go  out  to 
play,  and  they  seek  the  windows  where  the  lights  are 
bright,  and  they  see  signs  of  children  ;  and  you  will 
hear   them    about   till   nigh   midnight.     As   they  are 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  49 

apt  to  play  until  they  are  paid  something  to  go,  they 
make  pretty  good  livings,  and  pay  a  good  romid  rent 
for  their  organs,  too.  For  my  own  part,  I  like  to  hear 
these  peripatetic  musicians  ;  only  let  them  play  in 
moderation,  not  every  night,  not  every  one. 

In  the  summer,  they  go  out  over  the  country,  and 
play  in  the  towns  and  villages,  and  along  the  road- 
sides, and  there  it  is  pleasant  to  hear  them,  and  then 
their  children  have  a  good  time.  So  I  am  glad  when 
they  go  in  the  country,  and  so  are  you,  reader — are 
you  not  ? 

I  have  told  something  about  the  poor  children.  I 
think  the  children  of  the  rich  have  a  stupid  time 
in  the  city,  too. 

STREET      MERCHANTS      AND      CRIES. 

I  remember  very  well,  when  I  went  to  New  York, 

seeing  a  man  pushing  about  §k,  hand-cart,  who    kept 

crying— 

'  *  P-aug-e  ! — P-aug-e  ! 

Paug-e  ! — paug-e  !" 

And  then  he  would  blow  a  horn  as  loud  as  he  could. 


50  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

When  I  asked  Bill  what  that  meant,  he  laughed  a  lit- 
tle, and  said — 

''Why,  he's  a  merchant!  and  sells  porgies,"  which 
is  a  kind  of  fish. 

I   had  always  thought  of  a  New  York   merchant 
as   a   great  man,    with   warehouses    and   goods,   and 
clerks,    and   heaps    of    money.      But    I    have   since 
learned    that    any    man    is   a    merchant   who     acts 
between    the    producer     and    consumer ;     and    that 
this   ragged    man,   who   bought    the    fish   from  the    1 
man  who  caught   them,  and  sold   them  to   him  who 
eat  them,  was   really  a  merchant.     There  is   a  very    | 
large  number   of   people  in  N'ew  York  who   live  in     , 
tiie  street,   and  among  them  many  a  merchant  who 
pays   no   rent.      In    the    first    place,    early    in   May, 
boys  and  girls,    and  men   and   women,   go  about  the 
streets,  singing  out — 

"  Rad-shees — Rad-shees." 

And  most  of  the  people  buy  their  radishes  of 
them,  at  three,  or  two,  or  one  cent  a  bunch.  Then, 
in  a  month  or  so,  you   hear  them  crying,  at  the  top 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  51 

of  their  voices,  and  some  of  them  cry  with  a  rough, 
gruff  voice,  and  some  cry  with  a  sharp,  shrill  voice — 

"  Straw-breez — Straw-breez," — that  way. 
And  from  them  people  buy  little  baskets  of  straw- 
berries at  ten,  or  eight,  or  six,  or  five  cents  a 
basket.  Then,  by-and-by,  they  cry  raspberries,  and 
then  huckleberries,  and  then  blackberries,  in  the  same 
way.  But,  besides  these,  oranges  and  pine-apples,  and 
potatoes,  and  peaches,  and  apples,  are  sold  by  the 
street  merchants,  many  of  whom  go  with  an  old 
wagon  and  horse.  And  you  must  know,  that  away  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  city,  is  a  place  where  many  a 
horse  is  sold  to  these  merchants  for  five  dollars  ; 
and  as  one  of  them  once  told  me,  a  Yery  good  pair 
could  be  bought  for  fourteen  dollars.  Think  of  it ! 
How  the  crows  must  be  after  them. 

Then,  when  it  comes  corn-time,  you  will  hear  the 
cry  in  the  evening,  first  from  a  rough  voice — 

"  HOT-K-0-R-N— HOT-K-0-R-N." 
And  then  from  a  small,  child  voice — 

•'  Hot-K-o-r-n— Hot-K-o-r-n." 


52  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

And  if  you  go  out  to  buy,  you  will  see  people  with 
baskets  on  their  heads,  out  of  which  they  will  take 
ears  of  smoking-hot  boiled  corn,  which  are  kept 
hot  in  cloths,  and  will  sell  you  one  for  two  or 
three  cents.     But  I  don't  eat  corn  that  way. 

Every  day  there  goes  by  my  house  a  man  who 
cries,  what  sounds  like 

"  Yried  vish  ! — Tried  vish!" 
And  my  wife  said — "  Why  does  that  man  cry  fried 
fish  r 

He  did  not  cry  fried  fish  at  all — but  '*  Glass-put- 
in.'^ 

And  there  are  many  of  these  who  mend  up  the 
broken  windows. 

Little  girls  and  boys  go  about  with  baskets,  and 
cry— 

' '  M-at-chez — M-at-chez  !'' 
And  they  sell  a  great  many. 

There  are  some  street  merchants  who  have  no  cry 
at  all  ;  but  have  a  sort  of  board,  upon  which  they 
spread   out   their   apples   and    pea-nuts,    and   candy 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  53 

at  tlie  corners ;  and  some  of  these  make  more 
than  two  dollars  a  day  profit.  The  book  mer- 
chants have  their  stands,  here  and  there,  where 
they  sell  a  good  many  second-hand  books.  There 
are  men  and  women,  too,  who,  in  May  and  June,  sell 
bunches  of  flowers  in  the  streets,  and  some  of 
them  very  beautiful  ones,  too.  I  like  to  buy  a 
rosebud  now  and  then  of  a  little  German  girl, 
which  I  give  to  my  wife,  and  it  makes  her  think 
of  gardens,  and  green  grass,  and  singing-birds  :  very 
pleasant  to  her. 

There  are  others  who  get  their  living  in  the  streets, 
who,  perhaps,  cannot  be  called  merchants.  You  will 
see,  in  the  very  early  morning,  these  little  carts, 
drawn  sometimes  by  a  man,  sometimes  by  a  woman, 
but  almost  always  with  two  dogs  harnessed  under- 
neath ;  and  it  is  curious  to  see  how  those  dogs 
do  pull.  I  had  no  idea,  until  I  saw  them,  how 
much  they  could  drag,  and  how  strong  and  will- 
ing they  were.  Some  of  them  collect  swill,  and 
all   sorts   of  old   bones    and   refuse    at  the   houses  ; 


54 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


and  some  collect  from  the  ash-boxes  bits  of  half- 
bm^nt  coal.  These  they  use  and  sell,  and  so  get 
livings  for  themselves  and  their  dogs.  Perhaps  these 
men  and  women  have  a  good  time — but  I  think  I 
would  rather  be  one  of  the  dogs. 


You  will  see,  too,  men  and  women  going  about 
the  streets — and  they  start  early,  too — with  sacks 
on  their  shoulders,  and  an  iron  hook  in  their  hands  ; 
they  poke  into  any  pile  of  rubbish  or  filth,  and  hook 
out    anything    that    has   value.      These     are    called 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  55 

''Rag-pickers"  here  ;  and  there  are  hundreds  of  them 
in  Paris,  and  there  they  are  called  "  Chiflbniers." 

Some  of  them  have  done  it  all  their  lives,  and 
are  as  well  known  there  as  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton was  in  London. 

You  will  now  and  then  hear  a  rich,  loud  voice 
come  along  the  street,  singing  away — 

*' Sweep-o-sweep-o !  Ho-o-hie-he-o !  Ho-o!  Ho- 
sweep-o !" 

Almost  always  these  are  negroes,  and  they  are 
chimney-sweeps.  Now  they  sweep  the  chimneys  with 
long-handled  brushes,  but  some  years  ago,  little  fel- 
lows— sometimes  not  more  than  seven  or  eight  years 
old — would  crawl  up  the  fire-places  ;  I  would  hear  him 
go  brushing  up  ;  and,  then,  when  I  ran  out  of  the 
door,  I  would  see  his  little  head  come  pop  out  the  top 
of  the  high  chimney,  where  for  a  few  minutes  he 
would  sing  away — 

"Hi-ho!  Ho-ho!  Sweep-o!  Sweep-o!  Hi-ho !  Hi-ho !" 
which  sounded  better  to  me  than  it  did  to  him,  I 
guess. 


5t:» 


A  B  0  U  T     N  E  W     Y  0  R  K 


In  London  these  little  sweeps  formed  quite  a  class 
by  themselves,  but  they  were  white  boys. 

There  was  a  man  in  London  who  had  a  great  fancy 
for  the  little  rough,  dirty  fellows  :  his  name  was  Jem 
White  ;  and  every  year  he  would  give  them  a  smoking 
hot  supper  at  a  tavern,  wliere  he,  Charles  Lamb,  and 
other  friends,  put  on  aprons  and  waited  on  them. 
When^they  had  eaten  enough.  White  and  Lamb  would 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  57 

propose  toasts  and  drink  their  healths,  and  make  funny 
speeches. 

They  all  enjoyed  it  and  had  a  good  time,  as  you 
can  read  in  the  charming  Essays  of  Elia. 

THE     STREETS. 

A  great  city  is  certainly  a  very  strange  place,  if 
one  can  stop  for  a  moment  to  think  of  it.  Two 
hundred  years  ago,  New  York  was  a  cow-pasture  ; 
now  it  is  covered  with  streets  and  magnificent  houses, 
and  stores  and  wharves,  and  is  crowded  with  half  a 
million  of  people.     What  has  made  this  difference  ? 

One  of  the  singular  things  that  I  saw,  when  I 
first  went  to  New  York,  was  that  the  streets  were 
carefully  covered  over  with  round  stones  about  as 
large  as  my  head;  and  I  said  to  Bill:  "Bill,  what's 
that  for  ?  We  in  the  country  have  roads,  and  every 
spring  we  go  out  to  mend  them ;  and  then  you 
know  we  cart  on  heaps  of  dirt,  something  soft — 
but  here  they  are  all  covered  with  stones." 

"  Certing,"  said  Bill,  with  his  bad  grammar;  *'cer- 


58  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

ting.  This  is  pavement ;  and  let  me  tell  you,  that 
even  these  streets  paved  with  stone  don't  stand  it 
very  long,  with  these  thousands  of  carts  going  over 
them  carrying  heavy  loads.  You  jest  go  up  along 
the  streets  till  you  come  to  Broadway,  and  you'll 
see  how  the  pavement  is  all  worn  into  holes.  You 
jest  go!'^ 

So  I  did,  and  it  was  as  he  said.  These  round 
stones — made  so  by  being  rolled  about  in  the  sea 
for  so  many  years — are  carefully  laid  in  sand  and 
rammed  down  ;  but,  by-and-by,  one  of  them  sinks  a 
little,  and  then  every  wheel  wears  away  the  hole 
bigger  and  bigger,  till  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
the   street  becomes  dangerous. 

Every  kind  of  experiment  has  been  tried  to  make 
a  pavement  that  will  last :  round  boulder-stones, 
blocks  of  wood,  the  Russ  pavement :  this  is  made 
by  first  putting  down  a  foundation  of  granite  chips 
and  cement ;  on  the  top  of  which  are  set  blocks  of 
granite  about  ten  inches  square.  The  German  pave- 
ment— blocks  of  granite  about  six  inches  square,  care- 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  59 

fully  bedded   in  sand.     The  iron  pavement — castings 
of  iron  set  in  sand. 

The  boulder  pavement  is  very  jarring  and  noisy. 
The  wood  pavement  does  not  wear.  The  Russ  pave- 
ment is  very  costly,  and  becomes  so  very  slippery 
that  horses  cannot  keep  their  feet.  The  German 
pavement  is  excellent,  and  the  iron  promises  to  do 
better. 

Broadway  is  the  great  thoroughfare  of  New  York : 
from  the  Battery  to  the  Reservoir  it  is  four  miles 
long,  and  on  both  sides  are  warehouses  and  shops 
(with  a  few  dwelling-houses,  and  hotels,  and  theatres) 
through  its  whole  length.  The  street  is  filled  from 
morning  to  night  with  omnibusses,  carriages  and 
people :  and  one  would  think  that  it  was  a  per- 
petual holiday  there,  and  that  the  men  and  women 
had  nothing  in  this  world  to  do,  but  to  trick  them- 
selves out  in  fine  clothes  and  parade  themselves,  and 
act  very  much  like  ridiculous  monkeys.  No  one 
could  imagine  how  much  a  little  piece  of  ground 
in  Broadway  would  sell  for,  if  he  were  not  told.     The 


60 


1-  w  I     i        -N  ;.  \\        \   \/  it  h. 


^•■^:k 


METROPOLITAN    HOTEL,     BROADWAY. 

Trinity  building,  which  stands,  I  should  think,  on  a 
lot  50  by  150  feet,  rents  for  sixty  thousand  dollars 
a  year.  Then  in  the  Fifth  avenue,  which  is  the 
street  for  the  most  extravagant  dwelling-houses,  there 
are  many  that  cost  fifty  thousand  dollars  each,  some 
that  cost  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  a  few 
that  cost  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
Just  think  of  it  for  a  moment,  and  this  house  is  to 
shelter  two  ordinary  enough  people  from  the  weather. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  61 

One  cannot  but  laugh  a  little  at  the  very  ridiculous 
figure  some  people  cut  in  these  fine  houses  ;  but 
that  is  the  way  we  do  in  great  cities — "Poor  jewels 
need  a  fine  setting :'' — 

The  Kohinoor  needs  none,  you  know. 

Now,  where  does  the  money  come  from  to  build 
the  fine  houses? — answer  that  if  you  can. 

To  show  what  men  can  and  do  live  in,  out  of 
New  York,  I  will  tell  what  one  of  my  friends  said, 
in  looking  at  a  hundred- thousand- dollar  house : — 
**  Why,"  said  he,  "I  bought  my  house  on  Lake 
Superior  for  ten  dollars,  and  I  lived  comfortably  in 
it  for  a  year."  And  the  happiest  man  I  ever  knew, 
lived  in  a  house  that  cost .  less  than  five  hundred 
dollars. 

Now,  my  readers  might  suppose,  looking  only  at 
Broadway  and  Fifth  avenue,  that  to  be  rich  and 
glorious  was  the  principal  business  of  people  in  New 
York.  But  just  step  out  of  Broadway — go  just 
behind  the  front  wall,  and  you  will  find  it  filled  with 
work-shops,   where    steam-engines    are   whizzing,  and 


t 


62 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


where,  from  morning  to  night,  men  and  women,  and 
little  children,  too,  are  driving  their  work,  and  are 
making  every  kind  of  thing,  as  fast  as  ever  they 
can.  Such  is  hfe  in  New  York.  Then  I  warn  you 
not  to  come  here  to  be  idle — you  cannot  do  it — 
you  must  work  or  die. 

Whenever   you  do   come,    go   to    Chatham   street, 
and  look  up  Baxter  street,  and  then  walk  up  along 


ft 


^■■il-.^;iv  lit" 


'  '       ■■     iiiiii 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  63 

it,  till  you  are  satisfied  that  a  great  city  is  a  dirty, 
dreadful  place.  I  went  through  that  street  last  win- 
ter, when  the  snow  lay  in  it — ^thrown  up  from  the 
sidewalks,  and  off  the  roofs — five  feet  deep.  Piles  of 
filth  and  garbage  were  thrown  up  in  front  of  the  shops 
and  houses,  and  when  the  sun  shone  out,  the  melting 
snows  ran  into  the  cellars,  and  the  air  reeked  with  the 
vile  smells.  But  in  that  street  families  are  crowded, 
and  there  little  children  are  born,  are  dirty,  and  die. 
But,  then,  it  is  not  only  the  pavement,  and  the 
sidewalks,  and  the  houses  that  make  up  the  streets 
— there  is  also  a  street  below  the  street.  Under 
the  sidewalks  are  vaults  in  which  coal  is  kept,  and 
in  many  cases  where  steam-engines  and  machinery 
are  at  work.  Then  in  the  middle  of  the  street, 
under  the  pavement,  are  large  iron  pipes,  in  which 
water  and  gas  are  carried  over  the  city.  From  these, 
branches  go  into  every  house.  But  then  under  that 
again  are  large  brick  sewers,  which  carry  off  the 
waste  water  and  some  filth  from  the  streets,  and 
empty  it  into  the  river. 


64  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

N'ow,  it  is  easy  enough  to  see  that  to  build  these 

« 

streets,  and  to  keep  them  in  order,  and  to  clean 
them  (which  is  paid  for,  but  never  done),  costs  some 
money.     Where  does  it  come  from? 

Why,  the  people  of  New  York  pay  six  millions  a 
year  in  taxes,  which  goes  to  pay  an  army  of  office- 
holders— many  good  fat  jobs — the  entertainment  of 
great  men  who  come  home  from  Europe  ;  to  sustain 
our  admirable  schools  ;  and  a  little  of  it  gets  laid 
out  on  the  streets  of  New  York. 

THE     PRISONS. 

*'  They've  nab'd  him!"  said  Bill,  one  morning  early 
when  he  came  back  from  the  market,  "  they've  nab'd 
him,  and  I  tell  you  what,  he'll  catch  it!  he'll 
swing  !" 

I  was  a  boy  then,  as  you  remember,  and  I  could 
not  tell  what  he  meant,   so  I  said  : 

"Who  is  he — and  what's  that  they've  done  to 
him?" 

"  Why,    they've    caught    him — grabbed    liim — the 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  65 

fellow  who  stabbed  the  sailor  last  night ;  and  I 
guess   he'll   swing." 

This  astonished  me  greatly ;  for  in  Mayford  it  was 
not  the  custom  to  stab  sailors,  nights,  and  it  made 
my  flesh  creep  to  think  of  the  knife  going  into  the 
man.     I  said : 

"Oh,  Bill— is  he  dead?  What  did  he  stab  him 
for — and  what  will  tliey  do  with  the  man  who  did 
it — and  where  did  they  catch  him  ?  Who  caught 
him — and  where  is  he  now  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it, 
Bill." 

"So  I  will,"  said  Bill,  "if  you  won't  be  in  such 
a  hurry.  Why  you  see  they  had  been  to  sea  to- 
gether in  the  same  ship,  and  were  in  different 
watches,  and  they  did  not  like  one  another  over- 
much all  along,  and  this  fellow  who  was  stabbed 
was  a  sneak,  the  other  man  said,  and  peached  and 
lied  to  the  mate,  and  got  this  other  fellow  tied 
up,  and  there  was  trouble  between  them,  and  so 
this  other  fellow  who  stabbed  the  fellow,  he  swore 
that  when   they  got  ashore  he'd  make  him  pay  for 


66 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


it.  So  last  night  they  met  in  Jerry  Grain's  dance- 
house,  up  here  in  Water  street,  and  they  were  a 
good  deal  in  liquor,  and  after  some  words  they  got 
high,  and  before  you  could  say  '  Jack  Robinson' 
they  grappled  one  another,  and  right  off  tliis  other 
fellow  had  his  knife  in  his  belly." 


''And  is  he  dead,  Bill?" 

"No,  not  yet;  but  he's  bled  a  good  deal.     Well, 
then    he    broke    out    and    run,    and    they    shouted 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  67 

'Murder!  Murder!'  and  down  the  watch  came  after 
the  damage  was  done,  and  this  morning  they  nab'd 
him,  and  have  got  him  safe  in  the  jug,  and  I 
guess  he'll  swing. '^ 

I  was  not  used  to  Bill's  slang,  and  I  said:  **  What 
is  the  jug?'^ 

"The   prison,  boy — the  jail." 

This  story  made  me  feel  very  uncomfortable,  and 
I  did  not  eat  much  breakfast;  for  I  kept  thinking 
of  the  bloody  man  nigh  dead,  and  of  the  sailor 
who  had  stabbed  him,  in  jail  ;  and  I  began  to 
think  New  York  was  not  so  pleasant  a  place  as 
Mayford  after  all.  I  knew  that  the  sailor  who 
stabbed  him  was  sorry  now  he  was  sober ;  and  I 
felt  sorry  for  himj  and  I  knew  that  if  he  did  not 
"swing"  (be  hanged)  he  would  have  to  be  shut 
up  a  long  time  in  prison. 

Those  prisons  are  not  pleasant  places,  though  they 
are  infinitely  better  now  than  they  used  to  be ;  for 
once  they  were  the  dirtiest  places,  infested  with 
vermin,   where   men   and  women  were   crowded   to- 


68  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

gether  like  cattle  in  a  rail-car.  In  those  ' '  good 
old  times,''  as  some  people  call  them,  any  kind  of 
cruelty  and  brutality  was  thought  good  enough  for 
a  criminal,  and  men  were  apt  to  forget  that  they 
were  fellow-creatures  who  had  been  badly  brought 
up,  and,  in  most  cases,  were  the  victims  of  drink. 

New  York  has  two  principal  prisons.  The  great 
one  is  on  Blackwell's  Island  in  the  East  river, 
which  you  will  see  as  you  go  past  it  in  the  steam- 
boat. It  is  a  large,  square,  central  building,  of 
stone,  with  two  immense,  long  wings  filled  with 
narrow  windows,  and  every  window  crossed  with 
iron  bars.  I  went  to  visit  it  one  day,  and  I  found 
that  through  these  long  wings  there  were  cells,  in 
each  one  of  which  was  one  prisoner.  These  cells 
were  about  eight  feet  long  and  six  feet  wide  ;  they 
contained  an  iron  bedstead  and  mattress,  and  per- 
haps a  chair — but  no  more.  AU  along  the  walls 
was  the  passage-way,  so  that  none  of  these  cells 
came  to  the  windows,  and  no  prisoner  could  look 
out   on   the    grass   or   the  sky.      There   they   stayed 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  69 

behind  their  grated  iron  doors,  except  when  they 
were  marched  out  to  work.  These  cells  are  of  solid 
stone,  and  to  keep  them  clean  the  beds  are  taken 
out  once  a  week,  and  the  floors  and  walls  are 
thoroughly  whitewashed.  One  of  the  first  things  they 
do  with  a  prisoner  is  to  wash  him  up  clean,  cut 
his  hair,  and  put  on  a  prison  dress,  which  is  made 
of  different  colored  stuffs,  and  is  supposed  to  hinder 
their  running  away ;  though,  with  the  guards  and 
sentinels  all  about,  I  do  not  see  how  they  can  get 
away.  They  are  kept  at  work,  quarrying  and  hew- 
ing stone  mostly.  I  saw  them  marched  out  in  squads 
to  get  their  dinners ;  about  twenty-five  in  a  squad, 
in  Indian  file,  close  up  as  they  can  walk.  Thus 
they  are  marched  by  the  wardens  to  the  kitchen, 
where  each  man  receives  a  good  mess,  and  then 
they  are  marched  back  and  locked  in  their  cells 
to  eat  it.  That's  prison  life  at  Blackwell's  Island, 
and  I  decided  that  it  was  pleasanter  to  live  on  * '  Clap- 
boar  d-hiU  farm"  at  May  ford. 

One  of  the  curious  things  is,  that  the  sickly  ones 


70 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


get  well  in  prison,  and  I  wonder  whether  it  is  because 
they  are  cut  off  from  sweetmeats,  and  pies,  and 
cakes,  and  rum,  and  candy,  and  tobacco,  and  are 
obhged  to  eat  moderately  of  good,  wholesome  food. 

The    principal   city   prison    is     "  The    Tombs" — as 
it   is    called — in    Centre   street ;    though    there    are 


THE     TOMBS. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  71 

some  others,  all  of  which  are  a  sort  of  receiving 
prisons,  where  prisoners  are  kept  until  they  are 
discharged  or  sentenced.  Any  one  will  notice  in 
Centre  street  a  heavy  granite  building,  in  the  Egyptian 
style — that  is  "  the  Tombs."  The  warden  allowed  me 
to  go  through  it.  At  nearly  every  cell-grating  I  found  a 
poor  fellow  in  his  cage,  with  his  face  to  the  bars,  try- 
ing to  get  some  amusement.  Some  of  them  had  friends 
to  see  them,  most  of  whom  were  nice-looking  women, 
their  wives,  or  sisters,  or  sweethearts,  I  suppose. 

I  asked  one  pleasant- looking,  lonesome  face,  *'if  he 
was  almost  tired  of  it  ?" 

He  said,   "  Yes,  yes!" 

Then  I  said,  ''  What  are  you  here  for — fighting  or 
getting  drunk  ?" 

"  Ko,  sir ;  I  stole  some  boot-legs." 

'' Why?" 

"Why,"  he  said,  "I  had  no  money,  and  so  I  did 
it  ;  but  I  never  did  so  before,"  and  then  he  went  and 
got  for  me  a  recommendation  from  a  Mr.  Walker,  with 
whom    he    had   lived  as    gardener,   saying   he  was    a 


72  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

''sober,  honest  man;"  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  was 
till  he  got  into  bad  ways  in  New  York.  He  was 
a  German,  and  he  said  to  me — 

"  The  man  has  got  the  boot-legs,  and  he  promised 
to  let  me  out  to-morrow.  Do  you  think  he  will  let  me 
out  to-morrow  ?" 

''  I  hope  so,  I  am  sure,"  I  said  ;  "for  then  you  can 
get  out  into  the  country  to  some  farm,  where  you  can 
earn  an  honest  living." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  replied,  "that's  what  I'll  do.  I 
know  where  I  shall  go." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  don't  forget ;  good-by." 

"Good-by." 

One  sailor  there,  was  rigging  a  little  ship  beautifully. 
He  must  have  been  very  ingenious ;  for  the  wall 
of  his  cell  had  drawings  on  it  of  "Dr.  Adams," 
"  My  Father  and  my  Brother,"  a  picture  of  the  Royal 
Palace  at  Copenhagen,  and  other  such  things. 

Mrs.  Foster,  the  matron,  who  had  been  there  eleven 
years,  showed  me  the  women's  cells,  in  some  of  which 
lay  women  dead  drunk  on  the  floors,  just  brought  in. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  73 

There  were  about  a  hundred  women  shut  up  there  for 
ten  days,  all  for  drunkenness,  and  some  of  them  were 
handsome,  and  some  old  women.  Poor  women,  I 
thought,  how  dreadful  it  would  have  been  to  see 
my  old  mother  there. 

THE      POLICE. 

When  I  first  went  to  New  York,  *'  Old  Hays"  was 
the  great  thief-catcher  ;  and  he  was  as  famous  a  man 
out  of  New  York  and  in  it  as  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte. He  was  a  keen,  wiry  fellow,  and  what  is 
more,  he  knew  all  the  tricks,  and  turns,  and  ways, 
and  haunts  of  the  old  rogues,  who  prefer  to  live 
by  stealing  rather  than  work. 

"Set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief, ^'  is  an  old  motto, 
and  whether  Hays  had  ever  been  "light-fingered" — 
as  some  said — or  not,  he  knew  how  to  catch  the 
rogues.  He  had  thieves  in  his  pay,  no  doubt,  who 
would  tell  him  what  he  wanted  to  know.  Indeed, 
Old  Haj^s  knew  every  thief  in  town,  and  the 
police    now  know  them  well. 


74  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

''Why  don't  they  catch  'em,  then,"  some  boys 
may  cry,    ''and   shut   'em  up?" 

It  must  be  remembered  that  a  man  cannot  be 
clapped  into  prison  until  he  does  some  deed  against 
law. 

Now,  although  Old  Hays  walked  about  and  saw 
plenty  of  men  he  knew  to  be  rogues,  and  spoke 
with  them,  yet  he  could  not  touch  them  till  he 
learned  that  they  had  committed  some  theft.  Then 
it  was  a  contest  of  wits  between  Old  Hays  and 
them,  and  the  smartest  won.  The  rogues  all  knew 
Hays,  and  knew  that  they  must  keep  out  of  his 
way. 

It  is  almost  impossible  for  the  perpetrator  of 
any  large  theft  to  escape  now,  unless  the  articles 
stolen  are  gold  and  silver,  and  even  then  it  is  not 
easy.  So  poor  had  the  business  of  burglary  grown, 
that,  when  the  news  of  the  California  gold-disco- 
veries reached  here,  forty  thieves  bought  a  schooner, 
and  sailed  for  the  modern  Ophir,  where,  by  thieving, 
gambling,    and   being    elected     to   office,    they   have 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  75 

thriven  exceedingly.  There  are  men  of  great 
talent  among  the  thieves,  and  they  take  as  much 
pride  in  a  bold  or  a  brilliant  and  successful  rob- 
bery as  a  boy  does  in  being  the  best  swimmer 
in  town,  or  girl  in  having  worked  a  sampler  con- 
taining the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. You  may  see  these  first-class  thieves,  now 
and  then,  with  a  certain  swash-buckler  elegant  air, 
in  Broadway,  and  other  pubHc  places  ;  there  is 
apt  to  be  a  good  deal  of  watch-chain  and  shirt- 
bosom  finery  about  these  gentry  ;  but,  now  and 
then,  there  is  one  too  shrewd  to  expose  himself 
in  that  way.  It  is  curious  to  see  how  many 
ways  they  take  to  swindle.  One  of  their  most 
successful  is  what  is  called  the  "  Confidence-game. '' 
This  may  be  understood  by  the  following,  which 
has  lately  taken  place  here  : 

Mr.  Fred.  Griffing  is  part  owner  of  Gibbs'  patent 
rifle. 

A  well-dressed  man  called  upon  him  at  his  office 
in  William    street,   and   introduced   himself  as   Lieu- 


76  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

tenant-Colonel  George  Marmaduke  Reeves,  of  the 
Royal  British  army.  He  stated  that  he  was  agent 
for  the  British  Government  for  the  purchase  of 
improved  fire-arms,  and  had  made  a  report  favor- 
able to  another  rifle,  but  would  be  glad  to  exam- 
ine the  Gibbs  rifle.  All  this  was  very  fine,  and 
Mr.  Griffing,  finding  this  elegant  gentleman  belonged 
to  one  of  the  first  families  of  England,  invited 
him  to  his  house,  and  treated  him  with  distin- 
guished hospitality.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Reeves  lived 
at  the  Clarendon  Hotel,  and  was  in  no  haste  about 
buying  his  two  hundred  thousand  rifles,  and  the 
patent-right  for  England  at  $100,000  ;  not  at  all, 
for  he  wished  full  time  for  examination.  Mr.  Griffing 
called  upon  him  at  the  hotel  and  found  him  sick, 
and  that  he  had  been  robbed  of  £120 ;  and  was 
much  in  want  of  $100,  which  Mr.  Griffing,  in  view 
of  the  sale  of  two  hundred  thousand  rifles  and 
the  patent-right  at  $100,000,  was  very  willing  to 
lend  to  Colonel  Reeves,  a  member  of  one  of  the 
aristocratic  families  of  England. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  77 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Reeves  did  not  wish  to  put 
his.  friend  to  any  inconvenience,  but  finally  accepted 
the  small  loan.  He  also  took  one  of  the  best 
rifles,  and,  having  tested  it  thoroughly,  informed 
Mr.  Griffing  that  he  was  highly  delighted  with  its 
performance,  and  should  report  in  its  favor  to  his 
government.  He  also  informed  him  that  it  would 
be  a  convenience  if  Mr.  Griffing  would  make  him 
a  loan  of  $200  ;  and  that,  as  he  must  go  to 
Nova  Scotia  to  see  Sir  Gaspard  Le  Marchant,  to 
get  him  to  approve  of  the  report,  he  would  need 
some  $300  more  ;  all  of  which  Mr.  Fred.  Griffing 
advanced  to  him.  Before  receiving  it,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Reeves  deposited,  with  Mr.  Griffing's  law- 
yer, a  copy  of  his  authority  for  making  the  pur- 
chase. He  then  departed,  and  Mr.  Griffing  felt 
secure  of  a  fat  contract.  But,  on  the  30th  of 
July,  he  was  '*  waked-up,''  by  being  told  that 
Lieutenant-Colonel  George  Marmaduke  Reeves,  of 
the  Royal  British  army,  was  no  other  than  John 
W.   McAlpine,    a   well-known    thief,    and   confidence 


78 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


/ 


man.  The  end  of  it  wa&,  that  Mr.  Fred.  GrilBfing 
had  enjoyed  the  intimate  society  of  one  of  the 
/  English  aristocracy,  and  had  lost  his  $600  ;  and 
that  Mr.  Mc Alpine  had  had  a  good  time  at  the 
Clarendon,  had  exercised  his  wits,  and  was  lodged 
safely  in  the  Tombs. 

The  original  of  these  confidence  men  is  one  ' '  Mr. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  79 

Jeremy  Diddler,"  who,  in  the  play,  always  holds 
out  his  hand,  saying,  in  persuasive  tones:  ''Have 
you,  sir,  such  a  thing  as  a  ten-pence  about  you?'^ 

I  have  said  elsewhere  that  most  of  the  oflfenses 
against  good  order  are  the  result  of  drink,  and 
grow  out  of  the  grog-shops,  which  stud  every  cor- 
ner of  New  York.  But  such  incidents  as  these 
are  quite  common :  and  one  cannot  but  think,  if 
these  young  fellows  would  work  as  hard  honestly 
as  they  do  as  rogues,  they  would  make  more  money 
by  it : — 

''police  intelligence. 

"Capture  of  Burglars. — Policeman  Scott,  of  the 
Fifteenth  Ward,  observed,  about  eight  o'clock  on 
Thursday  evening,  three  young  men  enter  the  dwelling 
of  Mr.  Duncan,  No.  2  Washington  square,  and,  sus- 
pecting them  to  be  burglars,  he  procured  the  ser- 
vices of  two  other  pohcemen,  and  followed  them 
into  the  house.  The  trio,  finding  themselves  pur- 
sued, fled  to  the  roof,  and  thence  jumped  upon  a 
tea-room     in   the     rear,    the     distance    being     about 


80  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

thirty  feet.  From  the  top  of  this  room  they  were 
observed  to  leap  upon  the  back  piazza  of  the 
dweUing  of  Mr.  Boorman,  and  there,  being  lame 
from  the  frightful  attempts  to  escape  which  they 
had  made,  the  officers  captured  them.  The  prison- 
ers gave  their  names  as  George  Carr,  William 
Duzan,  and  John  Garvey,  and  were  locked  up  in 
the  station-house  until  yesterday  morning,  when 
Justice  Davidson  committed  them  to  prison  for  trial. 
In  their  possession  a  large  number  of  skeleton 
keys,  and  a  fireman's  badge,  No.  999,  which  had 
been  stolen,  were  found." 

It  is  stated,  as  a  fact,  that  in  Constantinople, 
the  capital  of  Turkey  (a  city  of  about  the  same  size 
as  New  York),  they  have  but  ninety  policemen, 
and  that  crimes  and  offenses  are  nothing  like  so 
common  as  in  New  York,  which  has  eleven  hundred 
and  seven  policemen! 

Why  is  this  ?  Some  may  say,  that  one  is  a 
Mahometan  and  the  other  a  Christian  country;  but 
that  cannot  be   the   reason.     But  it  is  true,  that  the 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


81 


Mahometans  are  forbidden  to  drink  wine  and  brandy, 
and  New  Yorkers  are  not ;  and  that  there  are  not 
eleven  hundred  grog-shops  in  one  ward  in  Constan- 
tinople, as  there  are  in  New  York.  It  is  also  true, 
that  in  Turkey  people  are  not  so  craving  to  get 
rich  as  in  New  York ;  and  are  not  tempted  to  steal 
from  the  time  they  are   born. 

Now,  when  you  go  to  New  York,  you  will  see 
the  star-police  about,  on  every  corner  during  the 
day ;  and,  if  you  are  exceedingly  watchful,  you  will 
see  one  occasionally  in  the  night.  You  may  also 
see  them  marching  in  drill,  as  in  the  cut — a  terror 
to   evil-doers. 


82  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

The  cost  of  the  poUce  to  the  residents  of  New 
York  is  $812,559  27,  nearly  a  miUion  of  dollars; 
which  is  paid  out  of  the  earnings  of  those  who  work. 

Now  look  at  these  figures  : 

Thirty-six  thousand  two  hundred  and  sixty-four 
persons  were  put  into  the  city-prisons  last  year 
(1855),  and  five  thousand  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
seven  were  sent  to  the  penitentiary  at  Blackwell's 
Island. 

The  cost  to  the  city  of  New  York,  for  prisons, 
almshouses,  and  hospitals,  in  that  year,  was  over 
seven  hundred  and  ninety-seven  thousand  dollars. 

What  has  brought  these  people  to  prison  ;  for  they 
did  not  want  to  go? 

Two  things,  mainly :  first,  stealing ;  second,  grog- 
shops. 

This  is  the  report  of  the  warden  : 

Number  received   whose  habits   were  tem- 
perate       3,561 

Number  received  whose  habits  were  intem- 
perate  32,703 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


83 


Those  who  wish  to  get  to  ' '  the  Tombs"  will  begin, 
therefore,  to  drink  beer  and  brandy.  I  shall  not. 
Those  who  wish  to  pay  a  milhon  of  dollars  a  year 
for  prisons  will  sustain  grog-shops.     I  shall  not. 

NEWSPAPERS. 

One  day,  Bill  brought  in  a  pretty  dirty-looking 
newspaper,  and  sat  down  in  the  cabin  of  the  ''Golden 
Grocer'^   to  read  it.     He  could  not   read  very  well, 


84  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

to  be  sure,  but  he  could  read,  and  he  could  write, 
and  he  could  cipher,  for  he  was  a  New  England 
boy,  where,  however  poor  a  boy  is,  he  learns  those 
tilings   (and  more)   at  the  free-school. 

There  they  attend  to  the  three  "R's" — as  some 
wag  said — "Reading,   'Riting,   and  'Rithmetic." 

So  Bill  read  and  I  listened. 

"Awful  Ca-c-a-1-cal — what  is  this  word?'^ 

I  looked  over  the  paper  and  I  said — 

"Calamity,  Bill — awful  calamity — that's  what  it  is 
— awful  calamity." 

**Well,  well,"  said  Bill,  "that'll  do— I  ain't  deaf ; 
it's  no  use  hollering  '  awful  calamity'  that  way  ;  I  could 
have  found  it  out." 

You  see  he  was  a  little  pestered  because  I  could 
read  so  much  better  than  he  could.  So  I  sat  down 
and  he  read  along  aloud  to  me : 

"Awful  Calamity. — Last  week  our  vicinity  was 
visited  by  a  fearful  tempest.  About  five  o'clock  of 
Wednesday,  a  heavy  cloud  came  rolling  up  in  the 
West.     In  an  hour  it  spread  away  north  and  south, 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  85 

and  began  to  lighten  and  thunder  some.  Then  we 
heard  a  rushing  sound,  and,  shortly  after,  the  trees 
near  our  town  began  to  bend  and  wave  in  the  wind. 
Animals  and  stock  were  strangely  frightened,  and  ran 
about.  In  a  few  moments  we  knew  the  reason  why. 
A  terrific  whirlwind  passed  through  the  woods  close 
to  our  town,  and  laid  everything  low ;  trees  were  torn 
up  by  the  roots,  and  trunks  and  branches  were  twisted 
off.  The  path  of  the  hurricane  was  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  wide.  Where  it  crossed  the  river  it  scooped 
up  the  water,  and  fish  were  found  lying  about  in  the 
fields.  Roofs  were  blown  off,  and  houses  were  blown 
down ;  nothing  in  its  track  escaped.  Every  house  on 
'Squire  Hobbs'  plantation  was  blown  down ;  his  wife 
was  badly  hurt,  and  four  of  his  negroes  were  killed. 
We  expect  to  hear  of  much  destruction,  though  we 
are  thankful  that  our  town  escaped,"  etc. 

So  Bill  read  on  and  I  listened. 

But  let  us  see  what  a  wonderful  thing  a  N"ew 
York  newspaper  has  now  come  to  be  ;  and  bear 
it   in    mind   that  in  New  York   city  alone  there  are 


86  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

now  published  some  two  hundred  periodicals,  of  which 
twelve   are  daily  papers. 

What  do  these  daily  papers  furnish  to  every  man 
in  the  city  before  his  breakfast?  Here  is  a  brief 
list — (the  Tribune,  Times,  and  Herald  contain  almost 
the  same   quantity  of  matter). 

THE      CONTENTS. 

1st.  Four  hundred  advertisements — ^of  every  kind 
— offering  to  sell  all  kinds  of  things,  from  a  frigate  to 
a  tooth-pick  ;  wanting  to  buy,  wanting  to  let,  want- 
ing situations,  wanting  information,  and  what  not. 

2d.  News  by  telegraph,  from  every  quarter  of 
the  country,  of  what  has  happened  up  to  three  hours 
before  the  paper  goes  to  press. 

3d.  The  debates  in  Congress  up  to  midnight. 

4th.  The  news  from  Europe,  and  letters  from 
Turkey,  and  Sweden,  and  China,  and  Timbuctoo, 

5th.  Able  editorials,  hot  from  the  brains  and  pens 
of  able  editors,  which  contain  more  talent  than  most 
books. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  87 

6th.  Reports  of  meetings  and  speeches,  of  murders 
and  rows,  of  fires  and  fights,  of  operas  and  plays, 
of  police  and  prisons ;  and  of  all  kinds  of  things 
which  have  gone  on  in  the  city  for  twenty-four 
hours. 

7th.  Law  intelligence  from  all  the   courts. 

8th.  Marine  intelligence  from  the  hundreds  of  ves- 
sels that  have  arrived  and  sailed. 

9th.  Commercial  intelligence,  about  money,  and 
goods,  and   stocks,  and  bonds. 

10th.  Letters  from  city  and  country  correspondents, 
telling  of  abuses,  and  news,  and  watering-places,  etc. 

11th.  Terrible   doings  in  Kansas. 

12th.  Literary  intelligence  about  books,  authors, 
etc.,  etc. 

And  all  this  various  matter,  as  Mr.  Parton  tells 
us  in  his  Life  of  Horace  Greeley,  would  make  up 
into  a  book  of  over  400  printed  pages.  Now,  how 
is  it  all  got  together  in  the  space  of  one  short 
day?  Near  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  are  engaged 
(some     for    a    part    and     others    all    the     time)    in 


88  ABOUT    NEW     YORK. 

collecting  it.  In  this  way,  there  are  some  forty 
paid  correspondents,  who  write  letters  from  every 
part  of  the  world  ;  some  fifty  collectors  of  telegraphic 
news  in  all  parts  of  this  country  ;  some  fifteen  men 
who  spend  their  whole  time  in  getting  news  in  every 
part  of  the  city ;  some  fifteen  more  in  collecting 
marine  news ;  and  besides  these,  there  are  some 
twelve  editors  to  each  of  these  wonderful  daily  papers. 
So  much  for  the  matter  ;  now  what  is  done  with 
it? 

HOW      IT      IS      PRINTED. 

Up  all  this  written  news  is  sent  to  the  fiftli 
story,  where  the  room  is  filled  with  fonts  of  type, 
at  which  are  working  the  printers  as  silently  as  if 
they  were  made  of  iron,  and  you  hear  nothing  but 
the  click,  click  of  the  type  as  they  set  them  up. 
^N'igh  seventy  men  are  employed  here  all  the  long 
night.  Most  boys  have  heard  of  the  "Printer's 
Devil" — the  little  boy  covered  with  ink  and  dirt, 
who  runs  of  errands  and  does  all  kinds  of  odd 
jobs,  is  called  the  "  Devil."     Some  say  he   got  this 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


89 


name  because  that  the  authors  always  said,  when  the 
boy  came  for  copy  before  it  was  ready — "The  Devil  1'^ 


Well,  the  matter  is  set  up,  and  then  it  is  sent 
down  under  ground — under  the  pavement — where 
is  a  steam-engine,  and  a  monstrous  and  wonderful 
printing-press.     Upon   this   the    types   are    arranged, 


90  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

and  when  all  is  ready,  the  paper  is  placed,  and 
the  steam  is  let  on,  and  to  work  the  mighty  engine 
goes  like  lightning,  and  the  printed  sheets  are  sped 
off,    from  ten  to  thirty  thousand  in  an  hour. 

Wonderful,  isn't  it? 

Then  they  are  seized  and  folded,  and  away  they 
are  sent  all  over  the  country  through  the  mails, 
and  all  over  the  city  by  hundreds  of  newsboys,  and 
every  man  gets  his  newspaper  before  breakfast. 

And  this  newspaper,  which  we  sit  down  and  read 
so  quietly,  has  enlisted  the  services  of  some  two 
hundred  and  fifty  men ;  and,  to  make  the  single 
issue,  has  taken  some  two  hundred  days'  work  ;  and 
to  print  the  edition  of  30,000,  has  taken  some  fifty 
cart-loads  of  paper.  The  cost  per  week  is  some 
six  thousand  dollars,  which  will  be  three  hundred  and 
twelve  thousand  dollars  a  year ;  and  yet,  we  buy 
the  newspaper  all  complete  for  two   cents ! 

Such  is  a  newspaper  now — and  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago  it  was  printed  on  a  sheet  the  size 
of  a  letter. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  91 

THE     WATER- WORKS. 

One  day  a  man  driving  a  cart,  loaded  with  a 
large  cask,  came  along  the  dock,  and  said  to 
Bill: 

"Hullo!    you,  there!    want   some    water?" 
"No,    thank^ee  ;    not    by   a    plaguy   sight,"    sang 
out   Bill,  in   his   rough   way. 

"Why,  BiU,"  said  I,  "does  he  sell  water?" 
"Yes,  indeed,"  said  he;  "lots  of  it;  he  gets  a 
cent  a  pail ;  for  the  water  in  these  'ere  pumps 
down  town  is  mighty  strong  of  lime  and  salt,  and 
has  a  sort  of  doctor 's-stufif  taste ;  you  jest  go  up 
to    the  pump   there,   and   try  it ;   you  jest  go." 

So  I  went ;  and  sure  enough,  it  was  so  bad  that 
I  spit  it  out,  quick  enough.  This  seemed  queer 
to  me  ;  for  at  Mayford,  when  I  wanted  good,  sweet 
water,  I  got  it  out  of  a  clean,  deep  well,  down 
at  the  bottom  of  which  I  could  see  my  own  face, 
as  clear  as  in  a  mirror ;  and  it  was  kept  clean 
by  a  great  speckled  trout,  that  I  myself  had  caught 


92 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK 


when  he  was  httle,  and  put  in  there.  Once  in 
a  while,  he  would  get  in  the  bucket  when  I  drew 
it  up  ;  but,  after  looking  at  him,  back  I  put  him, 
and  I  don't  know  but  he  may  be  growing  there 
yet. 

;.J  lM-;-.^tr 


^^^§1^>'>        .   'tv/^v'' 


It  is  so  easy  in  Mayford  to  get  good  water  to 
drink,  that  I  had  never  thought  how  good  it  was, 
and  how  starved  for  it  I  should  be  if  I  had  to 
drink  from  the  New  York  pumps.  Nor  had  I 
ever  thought  how  much  water  a  half  million  of 
people,  crowded  together  in  the  lower  part  of  New 
York  island,  would  use ;  nor  had  I  ever  asked 
myself — Where    do   they  get   it? 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  93 

But  I  can  tell  you,  ''Schoolfellows,"  that  if  it 
happen  that  you  should  go  across  the  plains  to 
California,  or  across  the  deserts  to  Timbuctoo,  or 
are  caught  in  a  storm  at  sea,  and  your  water  is 
so  spent  that  you  can't  have,  say  more  than  half- 
a-pint  a  day — then  you  will  learn  to  know  what 
a  delicious  drink  it  is  that  j^ou  have  in  your  wells 
all  over  l^ew  England,  which  you  draw  out  with 
your  '*old  oaken  buckets,''  in  bright  summer  days. 

Well,  the  time  came  when  more  water  must  be 
had,  or  New  York  must  cease  to  grow ;  and  a 
''Company"  of  men,  called  the  " Manhattan  Water 
Company,"  were  allowed  to  put  up  steam-pumps 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  and  to  build  reser- 
voirs, and  to  lay  pipes  in  the  streets,  and  to  sell 
water.  But,  by-and-by,  so  many  people  collected 
here,  that  more  water  must  be  had ;  and  it  was 
decided  that  a  river  must  be  made  to  flow  into 
the   city,    so   that   all   could    drink. 

The  little  streams  flowed  along  under  shadowy 
trees,   and  the  trees  whispered   to   one    another,   and 


94  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

kissed  one  another  across  the  water,  and  the  sun 
shone  down  through  the  trees  into  the  deep  pools, 
and  showed  the  clear,  sandy  bottom,  and  the  yellow 
perch  and  beautiful  trout  watching  there  for  flies  ;  and 
whenever  these  streams  came  to  a  rocky  place  they 
never  hesitated,  but,  dashing  along,  down  they  went — 
Rumble,  and  jumble,  and  tumble, 
Hip  !  Hop  ! !  Drop  ! ! !  Whop  ! ! ! !  Stop  !  ! ! ! ! 
Till  they  got  themselves  down  to  the  bottom ! 
That's  the  way  those  streams  did ;  and  the  cattle 
came  down  to  them  to  drink ;  and  the  boys  came 
slyly  along,  and  now  and  then  hooked  out  a  fish ; 
and  the  girls  came  and  gathered  pond-lilies ;  and 
the  streams  had  no  idea  of  ever  doing  anything 
but  what  they  had  always  done — run  on  down  to 
the  great  Hudson.  But  one  day,  along  their  banks 
came  a  small  party  of  men,  and  they  caught  no 
fish,  and  they  gathered  no  lilies  ;   for  they  were 

"a   committee" 
from  the  very  reverend  Board  of  Alderman  of  New 
York — serious   fellows,  judges  of  good  dinners,  and 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  95 

turtle-soup,  and  fat  ''jobs" — and  they  walked  along 
in  their  black  coats,  by  the  side  of  these  murmuring 
streams,  and  one  said,   ''Hum!     This  is  too  little. '^ 

And  another  said,   "Hum!     This  is  too  muddy.'^ 

And  another  said,  "Hum!     Let's  taste  this." 

And  then  he  said,  ' '  Hum !  Methinks  a  drop  of 
brandy  would  improve  it."  And  then  they  all 
laughed  out — "Haw!  haw!  haw!" — there  in  the 
country,  as  loud  as  they  pleased — that  Committee, 
the  Fathers  of  the  city.  But  finally  they  came  to 
the  clear  and  deep  "  Croton  ;"  and  they  stood  there 
and   looked   at   it ;   and   then   they   all   said : 

"This  will   do!" 

"Will  it  though?"  murmured  the  Croton,  as  it 
ran  away  down  between  the  trees,  and  dashed 
along  among  the  rocks.  But  one  day  a  gang  of 
men  came  there,  and  they  cut  away  at  the  trees, 
and  dug  away  at  the  rocks,  and  threw  out  the 
dirt   in  a  surprising   manner ;    and   the    Croton  said : 

"What's   this?— what's   this?" 

But    to    work    they    kept  ;    and    they    dug,    and 


96  ABOUT    NEW     YORK. 

blasted,  and  hammered,  and  masoned,  and  more 
and  more  the  Croton  wondered,  as  they  built  out 
the  strong  stone  wall  across  it,  till  at  last  the 
finishing   course   was   laid,  and   the    Croton   said : 

''Well,    I'm   dammed!" 

And  sure  enough,  it  was  dammed  across,  with 
a  wall  as  strong  as  the  walls  of  Babylon ;  and 
thenceforth  it  was  to  run  no  more  under  the 
shadowy  trees,  no  more  among  the  dashing  rocks ; 
but  down  through  a  dark  aqueduct,  built  of  solid 
masonry,  and  through  iron  tubes,  and  over  the 
High  Bridge  at  Harlem,  until  it  poured  itself  into 
a  great  reservoir  on  Xew  York  island,  thirty-eight 
miles  from  its  dam.  Thirty  millions  of  gallons  a 
day  are  poured  into  the  reservoirs,  and  thence 
through  iron  pipes,  under  the  streets,  are  carried 
into  every  house  in  Xew  York.  And  all  this 
water- works  has  cost  the  city  $22,000,000.  In 
our  squares  we  have  superb  fountains,  which  used 
to  play ;  but  alas,  they  play  no  more,  never, 
now.     Why?     Because  this  thirty  milhon  of  gallons 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 


97 


only    supplies    the    consumption    and    waste    of    the 
people. 


Just  think,  for  a  moment,  what  would  become 
of  all  the  people  in  ISTew  York,  if  their  water  were 
to   fail   them   for   one    day ! 

THE     RETURN. 

Well,  after  ten  days  spent  in  New  York,  the 
sloop   having   sold   all   her   potatoes,    and    taken    in 


98  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

various  hogsheads  of  molasses,  and  qumtals  of  fish, 
and  boxes  of  candles,  to  carry  to  the  stores  at 
Mayford,   we  prepared  to  return  to   our  old  town. 

Now,  I  had  had  a  good  time  there  with  Bill  Shelly, 
and  had  seen  lots  of  things  (the  half  of  which  I 
have  not  told)  ;  but  I  had  not  seen  my  Uncle 
Tom,  who  used  to  visit  us  in  gigs.  Why?  Be- 
cause  he   was    away  somewhere    on  his   business? 

But   I  was   glad  to   go   back,    once   more,  to   see 
my    dear     old    mother,    and    to   have    a   race   with 
the    boys,    and   to   learn   my  lessons,  and   I  said — 
'' Jerry  !'^ 

Jerry  cocked  up  his  ears,  and  wondered  what  I 
was   going   to   say  now. 

"Jerry,  hurrah   for   May  ford — hurrah,   Jerry!'' 

Jerry  jumped  about  and  barked,  as  though  he 
thought  it  would  be  fine  fun  once  more  to  get 
there,  and    chase    the    rabbits   and   squirrels. 

Well,  before  we  went,  I  ran  up  to  a  shop  that 
I  had  seen,  and  bought  two  loaves  of  twist,  and 
four   round   New  Year's  cakes,  and   these  I  decided 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  99 

to  carry  to  my  mother.  Beside  these,  I  had  nought 
her  a  very  nice  pair  of  scissors  that  I  knew  she 
wanted,  and  a  plaid  handkerchief  that  I  knew  she 
would  like.  Then  I  had  bought  for  myself  a  very 
fine  fish-line,  and'  a  long  reed  pole,  and  a  splen- 
did knife  with  four  blades,  a  file,  a  boat-hook,  and 
a  corkscrew  in  it,  which  I  expected  to  find  very 
useful,  though,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  was  rather 
heavy.  I  had  also  bought  a  beautiful  ivory  pin- 
cushion, to  screw  upon  a  table,  such  as  I  had 
seen  ladies  use.  What  was  I  going  to  do  with 
it? 

I  guess,  if  you  had  known  Lizzy  Loper  as  well 
as  I  did,  you  would  not  ask  that  question.  If 
you  had  seen  her  blue  eyes,  and  flaxen  curls,  and 
pink  cheeks,  and  white  teeth — dear  me!  what  was 
I    going   to    do   with   it,   sure    enough  ? 

Well,  we  pulled  and  hauled,  and  got  the  Gold- 
en Grocer  into  the  stream,  and  hoisted  sail,  and 
away  we  went  with  the  wind  and  tide  up  the 
East   River,    and   passed    the    ship-yards   and   beau- 


100  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

tiM  country-seats,  and  through  Hell-gate,  and  past 
Throg's-neck,  and  then  we  opened  into  the  blue 
Sound.  0,  it  was  beautiful,  and  we  dashed  along 
quite  finely.  Jerry  and  I  were  in  the  bows,  and 
I  felt  so  glorious  that  I  began  to  shout  and  sing 
away  ;  and  Jerry,  he  began  to  bark  as  though  he 
saw   that   dog   again,  Vay   out  there   at  sea. 

Suddenly,   I    heard   Bill   say — 

"Hallo,   you  Phil   there — I   say  !'^ 

''Well,  what?'^ 

''  I  say,  if  you  holler  that  way,  and  make  such 
a   rumpus,   you'll   frighten   somebody.'^ 

"Who,  now?" 

"  The   mermaids,   maybe.'' 

"Pooh,  Bill;  there  ain't  any  mermaids  now-a- 
days,  you   know." 

' '  IsTo  mermaids  !  You  jest  wait  till  you've  been 
up  and  down  the  Sound  as  much  as  I  have,  and 
seen  them  sitting  on  their  tails,  down  there  by 
Riker's  Island,  a-combing  their  sea-green  hair,  and 
singing   Mere    in    a    doleful    but   very   sweet   voiee. 


ABOUT    NEW    YORK.  101 

Tou  jest  wait  till  you've  seen  and  heard  "em,  and 
then  see  if  jou'U  say  there   are  no  mermaids.'^ 

*'  Xow,  Bill/'  said  I,  rather  staggered,  as  I 
crept  up  to  him  ;  "  now,  Bill" — and  then  I  saw 
a  little  twinkle,  and  I  caught  hold  of  him,  and 
then   he   laughed   away — 

''Haw — haw — haw!"    and   I   laughed,  too. 

*' Hi — hi — hi!*'  both  of  us  as  loud  as  we  could. 
'Mermaids?"   said  I.     "Pooh!" 

"  TTell,"  said  Bill,  "you  jest  look  in  the  cabin, 
and   you'll   find   mermaids   there.' ^ 

And  sure  enough  there  was  a  woman  who  look- 
ed sick,  and  a  nice  little  girl  with  her,  who  took 
care  of  her.  I  had  not  seen  them  come  aboard, 
and  I  am  not  now  going  to  tell  about  Julia  Ellis. 

Bill  showed  me  how  to  bait  rcfy  hook,  and  all 
one  day  I  fished  with  it  from  the  side  of  the 
sloop,  in  the  deep  blue  salt  water.  Did  I  catch 
anything?  Indeed  I  did — one  good  strong  horse- 
mackerel,  and  that  was  all ;  but,  I  tell  you  what, 
that   made   my   heart  beat   and   my   eyes   sparkle. 


102  ABOUT    NEW    YORK. 

As  we  came  near  Mayford,  I  could  see  the 
steeples  and  the  brown  roofs  of  the  houses  ;  and 
both  Jerry  and  I  thought  we  should  fly  as  we 
began  to  snuff  the  scents  of  home.  As  soon  as 
we  landed,  I  ran  across  the  lots,  and  Jerry  ran, 
too  ;  anr^  we  scrambled  over  the  fences,  and  raced 
through  jhe  back  garden,  and  mto  the  kitchen 
of  our  house,  and  there  was  my  dear  mother 
waiting   for   us ! 

She  opened  her  arms,  and  I  jumped  into  them,  and 
then  I  was  glad  that  I  was  at  home  in  Mayford. 


JAY  IRVING   COLLECTION 


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